


the campers

by jxnehxpper



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Discovery, Steve Harrington AU, Stranger Things AU, Summer Camp AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25436881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxnehxpper/pseuds/jxnehxpper
Summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are Suzie, Dustin, and his mortal enemy - you.
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Reader, Steve Harrington/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 78





	1. the enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Steve unfortunately reunite for the first time in five years.

Steve isn’t quite sure what he signed up for.

“Steve, you _have_ to,” Dustin pleaded with him a month ago. “There aren’t enough counselors, and if there aren’t enough counselors, then there’s no camp.”

Steve rolled his eyes, bit his heart was sympathetic. “Why is that _my_ problem?”

Dustin sighed, frustrated. “Because we’re best friends, and you’re supposed to help your friends when they need it.”

Steve rolled his eyes again as he contemplated the scenario. Steve had gone to camp when he was younger, but it was nothing like Camp Know Where. Steve’s parents had sent him off to a summer camp that some other Hawkins parents sent their kids to. Tommy H. had always gone, as well as some other boys Steve grew up with. He enjoyed his time there – it was always pleasant and fun. Just a boy doing boy things with his shitty friends. But Camp Know Where had a _purpose_. Steve didn’t know the first thing about science. Dustin said that could be used to his advantage - Steve wasn’t so sure.

“What’s in it for me?” Steve asked, unpeeling an orange as he leaned against the kitchen counter in his apartment.

“The camp is right on a lake,” Dustin began. “It’s a great spot for swimming and kayaking. You don’t know shit about science, so this is an opportunity to learn. And some of the camp counselors are _babes_.”

Steve snorted. “What are they, forty-five?”

“Uh, no? They’re _your_ age?”

Steve’s brows shot up at the mention. “You’re saying there are babes I have a chance with there?”

“They’re apparently not your type, ya know, since you hate nerds.” Dustin shrugged his shoulders, but Steve was still very, very interested.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“And, anyway, you can lead the sports and adventures and hikes and stuff, if you don’t like science. And it’s a nice way to get away from Hawkins for a few months.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully. “Is it paid?”

“You get a stipend of two hundred a month.”

Steve nearly choked on his orange. “Two _hundred_ dollars a month?!”

“And your food is paid for. So is your laundry and housing. It’s free.” Dustin grinned smugly at Steve, and Steve held his hand out.

“You got a deal,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

Steve went through a phone interview and Dustin wrote him a glowing recommendation. And here he is, a month later, driving towards Michigan with Dustin in the passenger seat and multiple suitcases in the back. Steve was required to come two weeks early to learn the ropes, while Dustin was allowed to come early because he was a designated Camp Leader, along with Suzie and some others.

“They call us the ‘Know Everythings’,” Dustin beams.

“Sounds like they’re trying to call you smartasses,” Steve responds, staring absentmindedly out the windshield. Dustin’s smile drops and Steve’s widens. “Don’t worry, _Dusty-bun_ , your girlfriend likes it.”

Dustin slams himself back against the seat, looking out the window. “Should’ve never invited you.”

“Too late.”

Steve was excited beyond the nerves. He had needed some type of self-intervention and introspection after the last three years. He needed a way to mend the emotional scars that the Upside Down and Nancy had left. Dustin had said there were a lot of authors and poets who wrote about the healing power of nature. Steve’s not sure it’s legit, but it’s more hope than he’s had in a while. Robin had also insisted it would be good for Steve to get away from town and try to find himself. So Steve is going into it with an open mind, trying to fight his negative side with suffocating positivity.

==

You, on the other hand, knew _exactly_ what you’d signed up for.

You had gone to camp when you were younger, too. Except you _hated_ that camp with a passion. Each summer, you’d cry to your parents as June rolled around. You didn’t want to go back to that stupid, hot, _ridiculous_ camp, where a certain group of boys made your life hell. But your parents insisted it was good for you, and they sent you until you were too old to go. In a way, they were right; the camp had taught you to stand up for yourself. It gave you the confidence and self-love a lot of people didn’t have. But you certainly wished you’d found all of that in a healthier way - not because boys would steal your clothes when you were swimming at night, leaving you to walk to your cabin naked.

So, you signed up to help out at Camp Know Where two years ago because you loved science and the outdoors, and you wanted to facilitate a healthy self-love journey for the campers. You wanted to help teach them how to be themselves, to love themselves, to stick up for themselves. And, truth be told, nerds need that kind of reassurance. _You’re_ a nerd – you’d know.

You came to camp two weeks early to help train the new counselors. You didn’t get the list of names, but if you had, you would have run away as soon as your eyes landed on _Steve Harrington._

_==_

It was, by all accounts, a beautiful June day. Not too hot, not too cool. The breeze rustled the leaves and the waves of the lake lapped the shoreline. Not a cloud in the bright blue expanse above the camp, which was buzzing with Camp Leaders and trainees. You stood at the entrance, helping direct people to the registration table. You were excited to see some of your favorites again – especially Suzie and Dustin. They’d been campers you bonded with last year, and you were ready to see them again.

Suzie came by first, adorably excited to see Dustin when he arrived. “He said he’s bringing a friend to help be a counselor, do you know them?”

“Oh, I have no clue,” you remark. “Do you know their name?”

“Steve, something? They’re pretty close.”

The name _Steve_ had always left a bitter taste in your mouth, so you visibly cringe. Suzie’s brows furrow but you assure her you’re fine. It can’t be _that_ Steve. There’s no way the Steve you knew at Camp Golden Rays was about to come here, to a nerd-infested camp, to help out with kids. No way.

You continue to greet campers and new counselors as they come. During a lull, you lean against the picket fence that lined the entrance, looking out at the parking lot. You see a nice BMW come into view – it’s not one you’d seen before. _Must be someone new,_ you think, pushing yourself up off the fence to greet them.

The first person you notice is Dustin, easily recognizable despite the hat covering his curly hair. He’s taller than the last time you’d seen him – kids grow up so fast. You smile brightly, happy for him to finally arrive, but your smile plummets comically as you see the next person step out.

It’d been 5 years since you’d seen Steve Harrington, and his hair had grown out and his body had toned, but it was unquestionably him. Steve, that stupid, smug bastard. That idiotic jerk who used to smack your lunch tray and trip you. That moron who all the girls swooned over and excused countless times for shitty behavior.

Here he is, at Camp Know Where – a place you never thought you’d ever see him.

Of course, Steve doesn’t know who you are, at first. His concussions had clouded his memory, only remembering bits and pieces. It takes work for him to remember who people are, or what things happened. Most of his memories of Camp Golden Rays are intact, but he had severely repressed his shitty tween behavior. As he approaches, all he really thinks about is that Dustin was right, there _were_ babes here.

“Y/N!” Dustin calls out, running awkwardly with his trunk to come hug you. You hug him, but your eyes stay on Steve, who beams at you as if he _didn’t_ ruin your whole life.

“Look who it is.” Your voice is cold and monotonous.

Steve stops dead in his tracks, confusion twisting on his face. _What now?_ he thinks. This isn’t the first time he’s forgotten who someone was. But then it hits him, and the realization nearly sweeps him off his feet. Regret, remorse, guilt, and anger rip through him as he remembers you. You, who he used to shove. You, who he used to laugh at. There’s still a part of him that feels that hatred for you, deep down, and he tries to shove it away.

“Jesus Christ,” he says under his breath, before loudly saying, “Hi, Y/N.”

Dustin’s brows knit together, and he looks between you two. He can assume that you both have a history. Steve probably stood you up or something. Slowly, he asks, “You two…?”

“Nice car,” you quip. “Daddy buy that for you?”

“Nice to see you, too,” Steve responds, dragging his feet towards you. There’s a lot of things he wants to say – that he’s sorry, that you look really good now, that he’s changed. But it all rests at the base of his throat. His mouth opens and closes a few times.

“Can someone please explain?” Dustin says.

“You’re friends with this asshat?” You ask Dustin, gesturing to Steve. “Like, _actual_ friends with him?”

“Guilty,” Dustin says sheepishly. He’ll fill you in on Steve’s growth later. “Let’s go find Suzie, Steve.”

And despite your apprehension towards each other, you and Steve share the same thought – _This is going to be a long summer._


	2. the trainee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets in the swing of things quickly, much to your dismay.

Dustin and Steve are luckily paired into the same cabin, but they have different rooms. Steve’s roommate isn’t in when he goes to drop off his things, but Dustin assures that the man, Nico, is a cool dude.

“Not as cool as you though, Steve,” Dustin says, giving him a firm pat on the back. Steve smiles slightly and nods, appreciating the sentiment. Especially after being blasted by you.

“Are you going to tell me what’s up with you and Y/N?”

“No,” Steve says curtly, shutting and locking his room.

Dustin waits a few moments to see if Steve will fess up, but he doesn’t. Actually, Steve sets his jaw tightly, making Dustin even more curious. “I guess you guys don’t like each other, huh?”

“No,” Steve says again. He runs a hand through his hair. “Well - she doesn’t like me.”

“She knew you as Asshole Steve?”

Steve sighs heavily. “Yeah. She knew me as Asshole Steve.”

Dustin shrugs as they start to make their way to their orientations. “You’ll just have to show her how you changed, that’s all.”

Steve scoffs and shakes his head. “It doesn’t even matter.”

Dustin knows he doesn’t mean that, but he stops prodding for answers.

They continue their walk down from the cabins to the activity center, filled with classrooms, the cafeteria, and research labs. Steve enjoys the area already, happy to see the sun glistening off of the lake and the large hemlocks and oaks. The wind smells like pine and juniper, even in the summer, relaxing Steve’s mind. The woods do scare him now, there’s no denying that. But these aren’t the sinister woods behind his house in Hawkins. These woods are welcoming and cheery, bright and charming. Steve loves the open fields for archery and tag, the courts for basketball and tennis. He decides he’d really like to help out with the intramurals, giving up on the science aspect before even getting the chance to explore it.

Steve’s train of thought is derailed when he hears a sweet voice call out, “Dusty-bun?”

Dustin turns on his heel, a smile spreading widely across his face. He runs to meet her halfway, picking her up and twirling her. The girl laughs happily, and they kiss for a moment before Steve clears his throat. “Is this Suzie?”

“It’s Suzie,” Dustin says, sighly happily. “Suzie, this is Steve.”

She extends her hand and Steve takes it, surprised by how firm her grip is. She’s alright, Steve thinks. She’s got this Mormon vibe going on, but her smile is bright and her personality is welcoming. Steve’s happy to find out that Suzie is an actual person, and while she has no Phoebe Cates in her at all, she’s a perfect match for Dustin.

Steve third wheels as they continue to walk towards the activity center, again being pulled back to his thoughts. His mind falls on what you’d said earlier.

It feels like a rock sits in his gut when he thinks about camp when he was younger. He knows he was an asshole, he can feel it in his bones. He knows he hung out with Tommy H. and some other dickheads, and he has glimpses of memories of tripping, pushing, and pranking. But he really doesn’t remember a lot. He’s not sure if he’s from the concussions or because he willed those thoughts out of his memory - but they aren’t there. Only insignificant ones remain. Like how his bedsheets in his cabin were blue and red plaid; how he would wake up at 7:15 to take a walk before Tommy would wake up; he even remembers the bitter taste of the orange juice hitting his tongue at breakfast. It’s like his mind zeroed in on the insignificant things so that the hurtful memories stay in the back of his mind, sitting like a cobra, waiting to strike.

The trio arrives at the activity center.

“I’ll see you tonight, Steve,” Dustin says. “Don’t worry - you’ll do great.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve mumbles, anxiety twisting in his gut. “Nice to meet you, Suzie.”

She smiles brightly and starts off, but Dustin stays behind. “Hotter than Phoebe Cates, right?”

Steve forces a smile and nods, giving him a thumbs up. “You really did it, man.”

Dustin winks and walks away, leaving Steve alone and sweating bullets. He hates being alone - he can’t stand being by himself anymore. Especially now that he knows you’re on the loose here, probably plotting some sick pranks. But he forces himself to move his feet up to the orientation check in.

“Name?” a man with the nametag Josh asks.

“Uh, It’s Steve. Harrington.”

He gets his bundle - a nametag, a hat just like Dustin’s, a few lime green and yellow _Camp Know Where_ shirts (reading LEADER on the back), a drawstring bag, some pens, and a notebook. Steve forces himself to not make a face at the shirt - it’s disgusting and it will certainly ruin his chances with the ladies. He’ll wear it - he’s just not happy about it. And, besides, the first girl he interacted with at camp nearly bit his head off, so maybe he shouldn’t be so worried about his chances. Maybe he should be worried about not fucking up this time.

He takes a seat in one of the large lecture halls, sitting as far away from everyone as possible. Nearly everyone who walks in waves at him and sits close, making Steve clench his fists and bounce his legs. He literally does not remember how to be social - it’s like a second language that he forgot. It pains him that he can’t strike up conversations like he used to, but those around him help.

“Hi, I’m Kara,” a girl his age says, sitting down right next to him. “Who are you?”

Steve blinks. “Oh - I’m Steve.”

She reaches out and shakes his hand, smiling. “You’re new, right?”

“Is it that easy to tell?”

Kara laughs. “Don’t worry, Steve - you’ll get the hang of the flow soon enough.”

Okay, maybe he does have a chance with some ladies.

You come into the room, eyes searching for Steve. You see your buddy Kara talking to him and you curse under your breath. She’s not supposed to be friends with him - she’s probably going to try to bone him in the next week, too, and you don’t want _that_ either. You march up to Josh, the leader of leaders, and pull him down to your level. “You cannot - you _will not_ \- pair me with Steve Harrington.”

Josh’s brows furrow and he looks up at Steve, remembering him from earlier. “What, you scared of that dork?”

You groan and roll your eyes. “He was such an asshole to me - we used to go to camp together. He made my summers _hell_ , Josh. I can’t be around him.”

Josh pauses and shrugs. “Okay, no problem, I’ll pair him with someone else.”

You sigh in relief and take a seat at the front, where a panel of veteran counselors sit. You try to be social, but the bile keeps rising from your stomach to your throat. You feel sick. You feel like this summer is going to be an absolute nightmare. And while you’re so far beyond who you used to be - that kid who couldn’t even look people in the eye - you’re scared that his presence will revert you back into that little girl. And it’s the _last_ thing you want.

Josh claps his hands a while later, signalling the start of orientation. Steve shifts in his seat and pulls out his notebook and a pen. He doesn’t know shit about note taking, but he reckons he should try. You grab your notebook too, excited to learn and meet with the new folks.

“Welcome to Camp Know Where!” Josh says.

The room erupts in cheers and Steve can feel his old self creeping back in, the insult of dorks running through his head - as if he isn’t clearly one himself. But he composes himself, clapping lightly along with everyone else.

“Here at Camp Know Where, we want to create a welcoming, safe environment for our kids to explore the world through science, math, engineering, and technology.” Steve writes it down quickly, forming the acronym “SMET”, and giggling to himself.

“It’s our job as counselors to facilitate learning in a fun, positive, and energetic way. Through orientation, you’re going to meet your fellow counselors, learn some things, and find a designation at camp. We work with you! If you think you’d be better at doing science, we’ll help you find your place in the classroom. But if you’d like to work with intramurals, we can place you out in nature. However, we still want to make sure everyone has a good grasp at all activities, so you’ll be cycled through everything we have to offer at Camp Know Where.”

Steve writes down “science - intramurals - whatever - know it all.”

“Today, though, we’ll be doing some icebreakers, and then some brainstorming.”

The room erupts in groans, Steve’s perhaps being the loudest.

“Relax, they’re fun.” Josh beams and holds up a clipboard. “I’m going to split everyone off with a partner now. This will be your partner all through camp. You’ll do something with everyone, but your partner is like your mentor. The newer folks will be paired with someone who’s been here a while to help you get in the swing of things.”

You shift in your seat. Maybe you’ll make a new friend - maybe you’ll get along famously - it was an exciting concept.

Or, it _is_ , until Josh calls out, “Y/N and Steve.”

The shit eating grin on his face is unimaginable. He looks down at you, smiling, eyes shining, as if to say, _get over it_. If you had a bat, you would have hit him with it. Your stomach sinks, it rolls, it twists. Your palms sweat, your head races, but it stays forward, eyes trained on the podium in front of you.

Steve feels the exact same, except his legs are telling him to get the hell out of there. He knows his protests will fall on deaf ears, and who would accommodate him, anyway? He rests his head in his hands as Josh continues to read off names.

“Alright, get with your partner. We’re going to play two truths and a lie!”

 _Phenomenal_ , you think. _The worst icebreaker of all time, and it’s with Steve Harrington._

You push yourself up out of your seat and force your legs to move towards him, sitting down next to him but a chair away, keeping a distance. Steve’s okay with it - it actually helps him breathe.

The rest of the room fills with laughs and chatter, but you both stare in silence for a long while. Finally, Steve says, “So -”

“We aren’t friends,” you interrupt. “We aren’t friends now, we weren’t friends then, and in the future, we won’t be friends. Got it?”

Steve swallows hard and nods. Despite the dryness in his throat, he tries to apologize. “Look, I know I wasn’t nice when he were kids -”

You scoff. He continues. “But I swear to God, or _whatever_ , I’ve changed. I’m not like that anymore. I - I don’t even hang out with Tommy. I just hang out with Dustin and this girl called Robin, you don’t know her - she’s pretty cool -”

“Save it,” you say harshly. “We can talk since it’s our job, but I don’t care about your life now, and I know you don’t care about mine.”

No icebreakers are played between you - the only thing played is an intense staring contest, which makes you angry and Steve horrified. Finally, Josh claps again, and then the real orientation begins. Josh hands out papers with scenarios on them, the goal being to brainstorm ways to demonstrate good leadership. Things like, _a camper is obviously intoxicated - what do you do?_ and _what’s the best way to improve a camper who isn’t doing well_?

“Wait,” Steve says as Josh places the paper down. “Are we sw- switching partners?”

“Nope!” Josh says, popping the ‘p’. “Not yet.”

Steve wants to die.

To your surprise, Steve has some pretty phenomenal ideas for how to be a good leader. He even delves into how he would bond with the campers - he’d play sports with them, facilitate idea generating, become someone they can come to and confide in. He wouldn’t shut down their ideas, but rather help them expand on them. You think that he actually has some really good concepts.

“I just want them to trust me, you know?” he says quietly. “I want them to feel like they have a chance and that they can come to me for anything.”

You furrow your brows. “How’d you get these good ideas?”

“Dustin,” he admits, a bit sheepishly. “And some of his friends, too. They’ve helped me understand how to be better at listening and helping and understanding.”

You nod stiffly, not wanting to become too impressed with him. “Well, you have some solid ideas.”

Steve’s eyes widen and brighten. “You think?”

You shrug. “They’re not bad.”

And just like that, Steve feels like he has a purpose.

The room forms back together to go over their responses, and for the first time in his life, Steve offers his perspective in a public setting without being condescending or rude. The feeling of raising his hand was awkward and unknown, but he kept doing it, in love with the nods of support from the other counselors. Someone said he must have a knack for being a leader, and Steve beamed brighter than he had in months.

You, of course, hated it, but you had no authority to tell him to shut up. To you, it seemed fake and, frankly, out of nowhere. But you couldn’t help to agree with some of his points and ideas. You hated it.

You all break for the day at five. You practically run out of the room, gasping in the fresh air outside quickly. Josh walks past you and slaps your back, turning around to smile at you. “Have fun?”

“I will kill you.”

“Can’t wait!”

You’d lost your appetite after the hours spent with Steve, so you stay outside, sitting on a picnic bench and contemplating. You wonder if Steve is right when he says he’s changed. Past Steve would never say such things, would never even bother to put in an effort. But he was giving more of an effort than most people in that room, and it genuinely shocked you. Maybe Dustin had something to do with it - but that seemed improbable, too. The whole thing was so bizarre that it made your head spin and your knees weak.

You see Dustin heading inside and call out for him, beckoning him over. His brows furrow tightly but he walks over, sitting down across from you. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“What’s Steve’s deal?”

“Look, I hated him too,” Dustin says. “I mean, I really hated him. Like, I wanted to punch him -”

“I get it.”

“Right. But he’s changed. He got sober really fast a few years back and he hasn’t been the same since.” Dustin pauses, choosing his words carefully. “A lot of stuff has happened to him… and I think it’s changed him for the better. He’s been through a lot. He’s just trying to find himself now. That’s why he’s here.”

You sigh heavily. “You think he’s better?”

“I know he’s better.” Dustin smiles. “And that’s why I think you should give him a chance.”

“No way,” you scoff. “He never gave me a chance.”

“Shouldn’t stoop to past Steve’s level.” Dustin’s smile widens. “You’ll hurt your back.”

You roll your eyes. You don’t want this kid to be right, but you know he is.

“Just - give him a chance, please? He really deserves one. He’s my best friend… he deserves a shot.”

You sigh again. “Fine.”


	3. the truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Steve bury the hatchet - and you’re not happy that you’re kind of enjoying his company.

The next morning, you head off to breakfast, Dustin’s plea still ringing in your head. Once grabbing your food, you scan the cafeteria for Steve. You find him quickly, sitting by himself at a table in the corner. You can see him playing sadly with his french toast and bacon. It’s quite pitiful. Sighing heavily, you walk towards him, dragging your feet underneath you. You slam your tray down and pull out a chair. Steve looks up, surprised and confused.

“Hello?” he asks, leaning back slightly in his seat.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you take a drink of your juice, staring over the edge of your cup with narrowed eyes.

Steve wonders if maybe he’s a ghost. You don’t seem to be paying attention to him - well, except to glare. He looks around to see if anyone else notices, then clears his throat. “Uh -”

“I’m only sitting here because Dustin told me I should give you a chance, okay?” you spit. “That’s the _only_ reason.”

“Oh.” Steve swallows hard and looks down at his tray again, unsure and anxious.

You continue to sit in silence while Steve picks at his food, before he finally says, “Look, I’m _really sorry,_ okay?”

“Sure,” you scoff.

“I mean it!” He scoots his chair back and places his elbows on the table. “I really, _truly_ mean it. I know I was a jerk -”

“Do you remember when you pushed me into the lake?”

He stares, dumbfounded.

“Or when you and your _cronies_ stole my favorite t-shirt? Do you remember that?”

Steve frowns. “I don’t, but I’m sure it happened.”

You furrow your brows. “What _do_ you remember?”

Steve leans back, thinking. A faint smile crosses his face. “I remember that bracelet you always used to wear. With the glass beads? It was blue, wasn’t it?”

You blink. “Yeah, it was.”

“I remember that.”

“What else do you remember?”

Steve sighs. “Not much. I remember I was a major asshole, but I don’t remember _exactly_ what I did.”

“Maybe Tommy can remind you,” you say bitterly.

“Tommy?” Steve scoffs. “I haven’t talked to Tommy since junior year.”

“Oh.”

It’s quiet for a moment until he says, “I really am sorry. You didn’t deserve that. No one did. God… I was such an _asshole_.”

You laugh. “You don’t have to talk about yourself like that just because I’m here.”

His brows furrow. “But I mean it.” He pushes his french toast with his fork again. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I just know I don’t like who I was.”

You both frown, staring down at the table. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, though - it feels more comfortable than anything between you two has ever been.

You realize that Steve’s a broken boy. He fell hard on his royal ass, and now he’s nothing but a jester. You feel pity for him. You can see your younger self in him, lacking confidence and self love. He’s lost and confused, and he desperately needs someone to provide him a map. You decide you’re going to help him, as much as you dislike him.

You extend your hand out to him. “Truce?”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“I want to call a truce.”

Steve stares at your hand hesitantly before taking it, shaking firmly. You drop your hand and resume eating, asking him about what he’s been up to since the last time you saw him. Steve’s shocked, but happy. He starts to eat his own food, finally, feeling a bit better about himself.

===

“I got a C- in chemistry,” Steve says.

“Then what are you doing here?”

You’re trying to teach Steve some of the more elementary-level chemistry experiments. He has to learn how to do everything before he’s placed where he most excels. You know immediately he won’t be excelling here - which is fine, of course. So you attempt to teach him some fun things that would most likely impress a boy who paid more attention to girls than class.

“I didn’t fail,” he says. “I just… _barely passed.”_

“How many times did you use dumbass chemistry pickup lines on the girls in class?”

“Shut up,” he mumbles, but he’s smiling. “What are we doing?”

“It’s called ‘cloud in a bottle.’” You hand him a pair of goggles. “Put these on.”

“Are you serious?”

“Do you want to burn your eyes out?”

“But I don’t look good in these.”

You roll your eyes, putting yours on. “Who are you trying to impress, Steve? There’s no one here.”

He sighs loudly and puts them on, adjusting his hair to make himself look more presentable. You roll your eyes once again and hand him a plastic bottle and alcohol. “Pour enough in to just cover the bottom.”

He does so. You notice how his eyebrows knit together when he thinks, how he bites his tongue to focus. Quietly, you say, “You’ve got this, Steve.”

“Thanks.”

“Swirl it around in the bottle so it coats the sides.”

He does so dramatically. You can tell he used to be the class clown. You take it from him when he’s done and place it down, grabbing an inflation tube and a rubber stopper. You put them together as Steve watches - he seems interested, at least. You put the rubber stopper attached to the inflation tube into the top of the bottle. “Watch this, okay?”

You start to pump the inflater, allowing air to enter the bottle. You firmly push on the rubber stopper to keep it in the bottle. Steve thinks you’re overdoing it - it looks like the bottle is just going to combust. He almost says something, but you finally stop, quickly removing the stopper. When it’s removed, a cloud shows itself in the bottle, coming out of the top as well.

Steve jumps back. “Holy shit!”

You laugh. “Yeah, man, it makes a cloud!”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, then places them on his hips. “That’s so fuckin’ cool.”

“Watch your mouth!”

He’s shocked. “There’s no kids here!”

You smile and elbow him gently. “Now you try the whole thing by yourself.”

Steve does so, and it goes well. He’s perhaps even more excited this time than he was the first time. He doesn’t understand it, but he doesn’t have to. Clouds in bottles are _cool_.

“If this is what we did in class, I would have liked it more,” he says, taking off the goggles.

“You’re very easy to please.”

“It’s a _cloud_ in a _bottle_ , dude!”

“I’m aware,” you quip. “There’s more you should learn, but I think you would probably like to learn how to do something physical?”

He nods enthusiastically. “What do you have in mind?”

===

You’d never seen someone kayak for the first time without flipping, but Steve manages to do it flawlessly. He’s really good at it, too; his strong arms certainly help. You watch him as he smiles, dipping the paddle in the water; right, then left, smoothly and calmly. He learned the strokes easily, expertly reverse stroking and sweep stroking. He’s in his prime here on the lake, and you can’t help but smile as you watch him.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you relaxed.”

“I like moving,” he says. “Keeps my mind off of stuff.”

You nod. “Well, you’re pretty good at it.”

Steve smiles and avoids your eyes. “Thanks.”

The sun is setting, casting a pink and orange glow on the water and land. You bask in the breeze, Steve joining beside you. “It’s pretty, huh?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I love it out here.”

“Me, too.”

Steve doesn’t talk too much, or crack a smile around you; but he beams and hits your kayak with his paddle. “Race you to the shore?”

“No, Steve, that’s dangerous -”

He splashes water at you and grins, his nose scrunching. “You just don’t want to lose.”

You splash water at him, too, irritated, but it only sparks a war. Soon, you’re soaking wet, as is Steve, and you can’t stop laughing. You’re pissed - you don’t want him to make you laugh. And yet he does, dorky charm and toothy grin making you double over in your kayak.

“Okay, come on, _cut it out_ ,” you pant. “Seriously, Steve, _stop_.”

Steve’s a little disheartened - he thought you were having fun for once. But he relents, paddling slowly back to shore while you watch him, angry at yourself for giving in. You just wanted a truce, not a friendship. Despite your wishes, you can feel the cracks in your plan starting to form; and you’re starting to get a soft spot for the guy.

===

Over the next two weeks, Steve excels in everything. He takes a bit longer to grasp some of the STEM concepts, but he’s a fast learner. Steve surprises even himself at how good he’s doing, even getting the hang of math he never, _ever_ knew before. He wonders if it’s from the learning environment. Whatever it is, he loves it, and he’s having a lot of fun. Even Dustin notices how good he’s doing.

“Holy shit, that might be the smartest thing you’ve ever said,” Dustin says one night at dinner. “I never thought you’d be able to explain what velocity is.”

Steve taps his fingers on his temple. “Knew this thing in my head would work sometime.”

“You’re doing great man, really,” Dustin says, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. “What do you think your designation will be?”

“I hope it’s intramurals.” Steve smiles faintly. “That would be pretty fun.”

“Yeah, well, the girls sure do like watching you.”

Steve drops his fork. “What? What girls? Which ones?”

Suzie comes over then, though, and Steve’s left in the dark. He’d ask you, later - you would probably give him the hard truth.

===

The next day, everyone waits to get their designations. You all wait in the conference room that you started in, chattering excitedly. Except for Steve, who is more anxious than he’d be if an interdimensional monster had sprung through the wall.

Steve bounces his leg beside you, and you reach out to stop him. “You’re shaking the entire table.”

“I’m nervous,” he groans. “What if they don’t place me anywhere?”

You roll your eyes. “First of all, you _have_ to have a designation. Secondly, you’ve been good at everything. Stop worrying.”

“ _Am_ I good at everything?”

You almost make a joke, but you remember how unsure of himself he was the first day you officially talked to him. You turn to look at him, meeting his eyes. “You are, Steve. You’ve impressed everyone here. Even me. And that means a lot, because I don’t find you as attractive or cool as some of the other people here do.”

Steve gasps and leans forward. “Who?”

“Alright, don’t cream your pants, bud,” you say. “Everyone here is just really taken with you, alright?”

It’s true. The female cabin has not stopped talking about Steve since the first day. They’re in love with him - it makes you sick. You tried to reason with them, change the subject, but it’s no use. Steve’s the popular guy yet again, just like he was at camp when you were younger. It’s like a never ending cycle of hell when it came to Steve in your life. At least this time, the attention doesn’t go to his head.

Not only the women, but the men love him, too. They think he’s “righteous,” despite being mostly quiet. They like that he’s dorky, but strong and handsome at the same time. It gives them hope, which you find quite hilarious. 

Your comments don’t deter them, though. Steve’s close with everyone at camp, loved by all: but he tends to stick to you for some reason. You’re his mentor, sure, but you don’t understand why he chooses to sit with you at lunch, or accompany you to the science labs. He’s like a fly that you can’t swat away - and you’re almost, _kind of_ enjoying his company.

Steve leans back, trying to hide his smile. He doesn’t want to seem like the attention gets to his head, because it doesn’t. He just likes to feel liked. He likes to feel like he has a home where he’s comfortable, safe, and appreciated. He’s found that here, and he’s _really_ happy about it. The light is back in his eyes, the spring back in his step, and he just feels like _himself_. For perhaps the first time in his life.

Josh enters and claps his hands loudly to get everyone’s attention. Steve grabs onto your bicep nervously, and you roll your eyes, shrugging out of his grip. He then starts to bounce his leg again, and you think maybe you should have just let him cling onto you instead.

“You’ve all impressed us so much the past two weeks!” Josh exclaims. “Really, _really_ well done. We’ve found a place for everyone easily. Are you all ready?”

Steve’s stomach flips and his leg starts going faster.

“For fuck’s sake, Steve, _calm down_ ,” you hiss, but you feel excited for him, too. You elbow him gently and give him a reassuring smile.

Steve waits for his name to be called. Everything else seems like white noise as his thoughts race. What if he’s not good at anything? What if he gets placed somewhere that he isn’t good at? What if he fails?

“Steve, you’re on intramurals.”

He nearly jumps out of his chair. It takes all of his self control not to - instead, he punches the air under the table, a breath of relief coming out of him. You look over at him and hold up your hand, signaling for a high five. He gives you one - it makes your hand sting, but his happiness is infectious.

“You did it,” you whisper. “Good for you.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

You scoff. “No, Steve - _you_ did it.”

 _I did it._ It feels weird for him to say it in his head, but a wave of relief and calm runs over him. _I did it._

You’re placed in the science area, of course, which you’d done last year. You consider yourself to be good at it - plus, the kids always had fun. Their reactions to the experiments were very similar to Steve’s, and it never failed to make you smile. You’d be able to see your favorite campers there, too. You were always impressed with what Dustin and Suzie could do.

As everyone files out, Steve looks to you, face twisted in concern. “What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Will I ever - you know - see you?”

It’s an odd question, and Steve hurriedly adds, “I mean - because we’re friends, you know. It would be weird not to see you now.”

“I’ll see you in the cafeteria and at night,” you say. “Weekends, too. The staff always has late night bonfires. I’ll see you there, okay?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, yeah, okay.” There’s another awkward pause before he adds, “Thanks for mentoring me. I learned a lot.”

A laugh escapes your lips. “You should thank Josh for putting us together when I begged him not to.”

Steve’s face falls. “You… _begged_ not to be paired with me?”

You mentally kick yourself. “That was before the truce, Steve.”

He frowns and grabs his things. “Okay.”

Steve really thought you were actually friends now. And even if your begging was before the truce, it still hurt. He didn’t mean to bother you - he just thought you both got along well. His shoulders slump as he heads for the exit, and you call out, “Steve?”

He turns around, jaw clenched. “Yeah?”

“I’m happy he paired us.”

“You don’t have to say that -”

“I mean it.” You walk towards him and hold our your pinkie. “I mean it. I don’t want to enjoy your presence, Steve, but I do.”

He smiles and rolls his eyes a bit, taking your pinkie. “I’m just that irresistible.”

“Alright, don’t push it.”

“Right - sorry.”


	4. the routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first week of camp is in full swing, bringing a few surprises with it.

Camp Know Where buzzes with excitement as the new campers file in on Monday. This is Steve’s first ever orientation - well, besides the one he just went through. He’s never been in a position like this, and he’s nervous as he checks people in. But it’s an easy job.

Until the Party walks in.

Steve stares at them all, mouth agape. El, Mike, Max, Lucas, Will - they’re all here, all carrying bags. Mike takes the lead, glaring tensely at Steve, as usual. Steve avoids him and looks at El. “Are you allowed to be here?”

She nods. “Hop’s letting me.”

Steve shakes his head and finds their names on the roster. He should have known, should have seen their names, but it’s actually a nice surprise. Well, except for Mike. But he’s happy everyone else is here.

“Where’s Dustin?” Lucas asks.

“Helping with move in.” Steve looks up. “Does he know you’re here?”

“It’s a surprise,” Will says, beaming. 

“That’s nice,” Steve says slowly. “Well, don’t be dickheads, okay? Don’t make my job harder for me.”

El shakes her head, but Mike scoffs, “You’re a _counselor_?”

Steve gestures to his shirt. “Did you think I just _disappeared_ for the past two weeks?”

“I hoped so.”

Max hits his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

They all step past the table, and Steve puts his head in his hands. _They’re gonna kill me_ , he thinks. A part of him is really happy they’re here, though. He’s not sure if that means he really _is_ fond of them, or if he’s just happy that he can keep them safe here. He straightens and continues helping others check in, directing them to their cabins.

You come up a while later, suppressing a smile as you approach him. He looks flustered, perfected hair now a mess. His cheeks are red and his brows are furrowed as he tries to figure out how many more kids are left to come in.

“How’s it going?” you ask.

He looks up and smiles softly. “ _So_ great.”

“It’s not all this boring,” you explain. “Or stressful. It’ll be fun soon, I promise.”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “You better not be lying to me.”

“What if I am?”

He thinks for a moment. “I’ll flip your kayak.”

You laugh - a loud, ringing laugh. Steve smiles, pleased to have earned it from you. He wants your friendship to go smoothly, he wants you to like him. After yesterday’s confrontation and subsequent confession of enjoyment, he was starting to think _maybe_ it was going to work out. Maybe you both weren’t going to dislike each other.

You straighten, still smiling down at him. “I’d like to see you try, Steve.” You knock twice on the table he’s at. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Steve nods, and you linger for just a second longer before heading off.

===

Steve continues to surprise you through the first week.

Though you still don’t get the appeal of him, you notice that many of the campers love going to see him for their intramurals. And he’s really good at teaching kids how to dodge a ball, or serve, or kayak. You’d never seen nerds so excited to interact with a jock, but they were, and it was _actually_ heartwarming to see. You watched from the sidelines on your breaks as Steve helped teach kids tennis and soccer, his face red from the sun but beaming. He’d pause to wave at you before continuing, and you had a hard time prying yourself away from the scene. It was like it was in his nature to be a teacher, to care after others - and you’d never really seen that in a preppy jock before.

You also never expected a guy like Steve, known jerk, to be so good at interacting with kids.

You’re walking along the shore before dinner on Thursday when you hear shouts coming from the lake. You squint as you look out before seeing the source.

Steve had taught the kids a new game on the kayaks. They’d pass a ball with their paddles back and forth, and if they could get the ball into the seat of their opponent, they got a point. It was _probably_ extremely dangerous, but the kids had fun, and so did he. He was soaked to the bone after every game, but his face hurt from laughing, and that was enough.

You watch from the shore as he and three other campers play, and you shake your head. Another counselor, Mia, comes up behind you and laughs. “He’s pretty popular, huh?”

“Always has been,” you say, turning to face her.

“He’s nice to watch, isn’t he?” She stands on her tiptoes to look past you. “I could watch that man’s arms for _days_.” You roll your eyes, and she frowns. “You don’t think so?”

You sigh. “He’s just… _Steve_. I don’t get the appeal.”

“You’re the only one, it seems,” she says, smiling again. “What is he, your villain origin story?”

It’s surprising how accurate the phrasing is. “It’s complicated.”

She shrugs. “You seem to get along well now, at least. Put in a good word for me, yeah?”

Your words catch in your throat as she walks away. 

Part of you _does_ like Steve. You find enjoyment in him - he’s goofy, he’s funny, he’s kind, and he’s _smart_. But he’s also the person who made you cry every summer. He’s your childhood bully - how could you enjoy his company? You confuse yourself with your own feelings. It’s like mental gymnastics, trying to hang on to your anger and resentment while equally wanting to like him.

You shake your thoughts out of your head and walk off the shore, away from Steve and his charm.

===

The week ends on Friday, leaving everyone exhausted. The Party kept Steve busy when he wasn’t leading intramurals, draining him fully of his energy. They were going to watch a movie with Suzie in one of the recreation rooms, leaving Steve by himself. He was worn and tired, sunburnt and hot. But he still jogged up to you when he sees you after dinner.

“Y/N!”

You whirl around to face him, a friendly smile crossing your face as he comes up.

“Hey,” he says. “Haven’t talked to you in a while.”

“Just since Monday.”

He shrugs. “Felt like a long time.”

There’s a silence before you clear your throat. “How was your week?”

A wide smile spreads over his face. “It was _amazing_!”

You let him gush, because you’re genuinely interested. He tells you about how easy it is for him to talk to the campers, how he created _Kayak Ball_ (“still working on a better name”), and how he’d made some friends with other counselors. Which leads him to ask, “Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

 _Shit_.

The annual First Friday Bonfire was tonight, and you’d forgotten all about it. It was usually a very spiritual experience - people would write stories from their past, things that bother them, share it to the group, and then burn the paper in the flames. It was like a reawakening - fire is cleansing, after all. Just last year, you’d wrote about the Steve standing in front of you, hair disheveled and grinning dorkily. You burned the paper and went on with your life.

You never expected he’d be here. It’s a bit mind-boggling.

“Yeah,” you say. “Are you?”

“If you are,” he says, suddenly uncertain. “I don’t really know -”

“Steve, everyone here loves you. You’ve made friends.” You hope the bitterness you feel isn’t being translated into your tone. “You can hang out with these people. They _like_ you.”

He nods, frowning. “I know. It’s just….” He sighs heavily. “I’ve never had people… like me before.”

Your stomach falls as you remember what he had told you about - how he hadn’t talked to Tommy since junior year. These were the first adults he had interacted with in years; he was _bound_ to be nervous.

“I’ll be there.” You reach out and squeeze his shoulder. “But you don’t need me. Everyone here thinks you’re incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the only thing the girl counselor cabin talks about.”

You see a blush creep up his cheeks. “Really?”

You don’t want to indulge him - you _shouldn’t_ indulge him - but you do. “Every girl here has the hots for you. Maybe even some of the boys.”

Steve’s breath catches. “ _Every_ girl?”

You stare at him awkwardly. “Well - n… _no_ , not _every_ girl, but - enough.” You feel embarrassment creeping hotly through your veins. “Not - not me, if you’re thinking -”

“No, no,” he says, just as awkwardly as you. “No, I know that.” He smiles slightly. “You hate me.”

A smile turns the corners of your lips. “Yeah. I hate you.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

A long and awkward silence ensues before he says, “Yeah - okay. I will see you tonight.”

===

Hours later, you saunter over to the counselor bonfire, located right off the shore of the lake. It’s a beautiful, clear night - a slight breeze rustles the trees and the fire licks the stars. You’re a bit late, and Steve’s nervous that you won’t show up. Despite this, he is literally surrounded by the female counselors, who are eagerly asking him about himself.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble as you approach.

“Look who it is!” Josh shouts out as you near. “Y/N, we’ve been waiting for you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” you say dryly, entering the circle.

Steve pats the log beside him - he had saved you a seat. With all these girls surrounding him, he saved you a seat. He had to tell them, “ _hey, don’t sit there, it’s reserved,”_ while he waited for you to show up. It’s a sweet gesture, one that sends your heart beating a little too fast for your liking. You sit beside him, giving a tight lipped smile.

The girls all smile at you, as if it’s all some type of game. And you know why they’re so amused - you had dramatically cut them off each night when Steve would be brought up. You’d throw a pillow over your head and shout at them to just _shut up already_. They thought you weren’t immune to his charms, just as they weren’t. You roll your eyes at them.

Josh hands you a piece of paper and a pencil. “We’re doing the burning ceremony in a few.”

You take the paper and pencil from him gently, sitting it on your lap. Beside you, Steve is clutching his paper tightly to his chest. You bite the inside of your cheek as you think about what to write down - you’d already metaphorically burned Steve last year. You simply write down _my past_ with no elaboration, intending to feed everyone a fake story and then throw it into the fire.

Steve himself didn’t need to think very long about what to write down. His biggest regret was the way he had treated people. A nauseous jerk tugs at his stomach when he thinks about high school, when he thinks about Nancy and Jonathan, when he thinks about the mask he always hid behind. He’s reminded of it every single day here with you - memories that he can’t quite touch but that he knows are there. The feeling of guilt when he looks at you, at the way your brows furrow and eyes narrow at him. How, even now, the pleasantries hide behind past aggression.

He doesn’t blame you.

And maybe, _perhaps_ , burning a piece of paper will make him feel better. It’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever done.

You listen as everyone goes around and tells their story. Some talk about relationships, or mental health. Each story is met with support from the circle, almost like group therapy. When all comments are said, the paper is thrown in, and everyone claps and cheers as it burns. You can sense that Steve is getting more and more nervous as he gets closer to talking, and you wonder what’s on his paper.

When it’s your turn, you stand up. “I wrote down my past.” You clear your throat. “Uh - I’m not proud of who I used to be. I used to be so quiet and shy. But I’m happier now, and _louder_ , and I’m not afraid of the space that I take up.”

Steve’s eyes burn a hole into your side as you tell your story. He remembers the girl you’re talking about. He remembers how quiet you were, always minding your own business. And his chest hurts when he realizes that he’s probably why you were that way.

It takes a lot of strength for you to not side-eye him.

Everyone tells you that they’re proud and you throw the paper into the fire, sitting back down and crossing your hands over your lap. There’s a tenseness between you and Steve, but no one realizes the connection.

Steve stands, his hands shaking. It takes him a second to find his voice.

“Um. Well, when I was younger - not _younger_ , just a few years ago - I was a jerk.”

You tense up, staring intently into the fire.

“I was such a _dick_. I made the worst decisions and the worst friends. I used to follow the crowd, because I thought that’s what I had to do to make them like me.” He licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “And I knew it was wrong - I _knew_ it was - but that’s not an excuse. I let it go on for too long, and I hurt a lot of people. And that really kills me each day.”

You squeeze your hands together.

“I’m trying _so hard_ to not be that person anymore, and I’m glad that I’m not. I got away from those people and I found better friends. Friends who believe in me and like me for _me_.” He clears his throat and sniffles. “But I’m so _worried_ that I’ll turn back into that person again. I know there are people who will always know me as that person, and that _sucks_.” His eyes land on the top of your head. “But not as much as it sucks for them, I’m sure.

“I’m just ashamed,” he continues. “I wish I could change what I did. I wish I could make everyone believe that I’m not that guy anymore. I wish I wasn’t so scared. Most of all, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Everyone’s silent. Steve asks, “Do - do I throw it in now?”

“No,” Josh says. “Uh - wow. I don’t even know where to start.”

Steve feels the shame creeping into his chest again and bows his head.

“First of all, man, you’re allowed to change. You _can_ change, and it’s obvious that you did,” Josh says.

Steve looks up, shocked at the validation.

“Yeah,” Nico, Steve’s roommate, interjects. “Dude, you’re one of the nicest, goofiest people I’ve ever met.”

A few yeahs echo around the circle.

“And it’s a good sign that you regret what you’ve done,” another girl, Emily, says. “That shows growth.”

You sit tensely, feeling cold in front of the fire. You know he’s talking about you. And you know he means what he’s saying.

You interject a few moments later. “What matters is that you’re trying to change. That’s the best you can do.”

Steve looks down at you, brows furrowing, but it feels like a weight has lifted off of him, freeing him. Feels like his collar bones aren’t cracking under pressure. His eyes are soft and filled with tears - he wasn’t expecting any of this.

You swallow hard, feeling your own tears swelling in your eyes. “And I think that - I think that it’s obvious you aren’t like who you were before.”

Never in your life did you think you’d say that, and never in Steve’s life did he think he’d hear it.

A few people agree, reinforcing that it’s okay for him to be ashamed, but it’s okay for him to grow, too. It’s a bit much for Steve, who makes a strong effort to not burst out into sobs. You can’t meet his eyes yet, but when he sits down after throwing the paper in, you reach for his hand and squeeze it. It’s more than the truce at the breakfast table - it’s an understanding. It’s forgiveness. It’s comfort. It’s friendship. You decide to truly, _finally_ swallow your past, let the flames do their job, and embrace the new Steve.

Your hand leaves after just a second, but he understands the message, and you both smile the rest of the night.

===

It’s Sunday night now, and you’re doing rounds. It’s a little after one in the morning. You check on every cabin to make sure kids are asleep and safe, then decide to sneak a dip in the lake. It was a cool night, but the water was calling. You approach the pier but stop when you see another body already sitting on the edge, shoulders slumped.

You can tell despite the distance that it’s Steve, and you can tell that something’s wrong.

You make your footsteps loud so he can hear you coming, and you take a seat on the wood beside him. The lake is bright from the moon, and it illuminates on Steve’s sullen face. “You okay?”

He nods softly. “I just wanted to take a walk,” he says, but his voice cracks.

You frown. “Is that all?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time, but you can see that his cheeks and eyes are red and swollen. Finally, he whispers, “I had a nightmare.”

Steve had awoken in a sweat, kicking his sheets off of him and gasping for breath. It was another dream about the Upside Down, and it hit him unexpectedly and hard. Nico had stood over his bed, worry etched onto his face, asking Steve if he was okay. Steve brushed it off and said he needed to go on a walk. When he slipped outside, he cried, hugging himself as he walked to the pier. It was the brightest spot at camp, the only place he felt safe. He had learned the lake like the back of his hand in three week’s time, had found a home in it, and he went there to pull himself together.

A nightmare was a bit of an understatement - it had felt so real. He went weeks without one, happily, assuming the distance from Hawkins was helping. It was disheartening to have one here. Embarrassing, too. He wonders if Dustin or any of the kids had been having them.

The anguish on his face and cheeks is apparent and you whisper, “Hey,” taking his hand and squeezing it again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head numbly. He would like to talk about it, but knows he can’t. “Just a stupid dream.”

You frown. “It’s not stupid to feel scared.”

Steve sniffles. “I know.”

“But _do_ you know?”

Steve stills, eyebrows knitting together again. “I… it’s hard to feel like it’s not stupid.”

You nod. “I know how you feel. Well, at least a bit.”

“Do you have nightmares?”

“No,” you whisper. Your thumb absentmindedly rubs over his. “But I have anxiety. And I know how it feels to think it’s stupid to feel that way.”

Steve nods. “I just kind of… push it down. I try not to bother people with it.”

“You’re not bothering people who love you for talking about it. Have you told Dustin?”

“Yeah, but… he’s got his own problems.”

You nod in understanding. After a few moments of silence, you say, “You can talk to me.”

He laughs solemnly. He wishes he could talk to someone about it. Someone outside of the people who were there, or outside of the shrinks that Doc Owens had recommended. Anyone with a new perspective. But he _can’t_ , because the person he’d confide in would _die_ , and he really doesn’t need that on his conscience. That’s not something you could burn in a fire and forget about.

“I’m serious,” you say. “I can help.”

Steve kicks his feet back and forth in the water for a few minutes. Then he looks over at you. “How do you stop being anxious?”

“You don’t,” you say, laughing. “It just gets easier to hide. But having friends helps, and loving yourself helps.”

“I don’t have either.”

You elbow his side gently. “You have friends, Steve. And I’ll be _damned_ if you don’t like yourself by the time you leave here.”

He’s quiet again, then says, “It’s really hard for me to think of people as friends. It’s hard to think that people actually want to hang out with me. Tommy and Carol used me for money and an empty house.” He shrugs lazily. “The attention just feels so… _superficial_ now.”

And it makes your heart ache, because maybe that’s why he won’t give in to the girls here. He thinks they don’t like him for him - they only like him for his looks. Even if he _wants_ them to like him, if he _wants_ someone to love, it’s hard to accept it. The realization ignites an odd anger in you; he doesn’t deserve to feel like this.

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But at least you’re aware of it, right?”

He nods and shrugs again. “I guess.”

More silence.

“Your speech on Friday…,” you say softly. “It meant a lot.”

“It didn’t have to -”

“But it did.”

He swallows and turns to face you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” you say, rubbing his thumb again. “I forgive you.” You smile. “For real this time.”

He smiles, too. “ _Apparently_ , since you can’t stop holding my hand.”

You retract it quickly, holding it to your chest. You didn’t realize how long you’d been holding it, and you blushed deeply. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You sure?” he grins. “Because _someone_ told me every girl here likes me.”

You kick water towards him and he laughs, kicking back. You’re happy to see the light back in his eyes.

“So _Kayak Ball_ , huh?”

“It’s the next big thing.” He seems proud of it.

You hum. “So I’ve heard.” You splash water towards him again. “You gonna teach me?”

Steve laughs incredulously. “You want to learn?”

“Yeah,” you smile, shrugging. “Maybe I can stop by tomorrow on my break.”

He smiles widely. “You’re gonna get your ass kicked.”

You push up and reach out for his hand, pulling him up with you. “Let me walk you back to your cabin, okay?”

“You don’t have to -”

“I don’t want you to get lost in the woods.”

You walk together in silence, but Steve feels comforted. Like maybe he could go back to sleep when he lays down instead of worrying about dying.

“Hey,” you say when you approach his cabin. “Um… Mia? She wanted me to put in a good word for her.”

“As in?”

“ _As in_ , you should sit with her at lunch.” You wink. “She’s one of those ‘every girls’ that likes you.”

His eyes widen and then he smiles, shaking his head. “You mean it?”

“No, it’s a prank.”

He laughs softly and shakes his head again. “Well, thanks for the tip.”

You smile and nod. When you turn to walk towards your cabin, you say, “Goodnight, Steve.”

He waves after you. “Goodnight.”


	5. the disappearance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You struggle with your feelings for Steve; something sinister lurks in the woods.

The next day is a Monday, and you have a two hour break between lessons. You head to the lake with Steve, intending to learn how to play the coveted _Kayak Ball._

“Do _not_ splash me.”

Steve quirks a brow. “Or what?”

“I’ll flip your kayak.”

“You don’t have the muscles -”

You move quickly, splashing him with your paddle. Steve laughs, splashing you back. 

“This isn’t what I was promised,” you say. “I was promised a game involving a ball.”

Steve twists and grabs the ball he’d brought - red, slightly smaller than a dodgeball - and holds it up with one hand. “This is the ball we use.”

“And you just… hit it with the face of the paddle?”

“Yep.”

“Doesn’t seem so hard.”

“We’ll see,” he beams. “Paddle back a bit.”

You do, creating a distance between you two. “C’mon, Harrington, let’s go.”

Steve throws the ball in the air and whacks it with the face of his paddle. It spins towards you, and you hit it with the paddle, almost like it’s a baseball bat. Steve drops his paddle and catches it. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s not a _bat_.” He puts the ball down and lifts the paddles again. “You use the momentum it has to just _tap_ it with the paddle.”

“I’m not good at this,” you frown, putting your paddle down. 

“You tried _once_.”

“And I know my limits.”

“Here,” he says, paddling towards you quickly. He positions his kayak beside yours and reaches out for you. “Let me show you.” He leans far, balancing himself and the kayak while wrapping his arms around yours. When his hands come over yours to show you how to hold the paddle to tap the ball, your heart speeds up. 

And you realize that Steve has really, really nice arms. 

And nice hands. 

And he smells really incredible. 

Your stomach flips, a heat spreading from your chest up to your face, shading it pink. You stop breathing momentarily as Steve lifts your arms, showing you how to face the paddle towards the ball. 

“Like this,” he says quietly. “And then you just - tap!”

“Oh.” You feel tense, because Steve’s breath is on your neck, and it tickles, and _wow, hey, that feels good, actually,_ and _oh, shit, it should not feel good_. 

Steve leans back into his space, brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

You turn to look at him, but you’re caught up in the little freckles that move down his jaw and to his neck. Steve leans forward. “Y/N?”

You shake your head, relaxing. “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking.”

“About how cool _Kayak Ball_ is?”

You think quickly. “About how it would sound better if it was called _Paddle Ball_.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “That’s already a thing.”

“Is it?”

Steve smiles and shakes his head. “Guess nerds can’t know _everything_.”

You splash him with your paddle again, head still reeling a bit from the odd realization you had when his arms wrapped around yours. You want him _away_ from you - he’s too close right now, and you’re starting to notice the blonde highlights in his hair. “Let’s try again.”

“You sure? I’m _probably_ going to beat you, anyway.”

“Let’s _go_ , Steve!”

He flashes you a smile and paddles away, allowing you to swallow down the thoughts you just had. 

You felt absentminded the rest of the game, continuously messing up, trying not to look at him. You were at war with yourself, trying to understand what the _hell_ just happened. Maybe Steve was attractive - there’s no harm in that, right? It seems like basic knowledge to everyone else at camp, so why can’t it be basic knowledge for you? Admitting that he’s cute doesn’t mean anything, right? Or _does_ it? Are you still in some odd competition with him? Would you have _lost_ if you liked him? Oh, God, _do you like him?_

“Hey,” Steve calls. “Are you okay over there?”

Your eyes had focused on the water instead of on Steve. You look back to him. He’s frowning, looking at you with concern. 

You shake your head. “I’m just thinking about stuff. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot, too,” he admits, resting his paddles. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“What have you been thinking about?”

Steve smiles and looks down to the water. “How happy I am here.” He looks up. “How happy I am that we’re friends.”

You can’t stop the blush that rises. “And why are you so happy that we’re friends?”

“I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “I guess I just think we get along really well.” He pauses. “Well - _now_ we do.”

You smile softly. “Yeah, I think we do, too.”

You both stare at each other for a while, just smiling, before you realize what you’re doing. You check your watch and sigh. “Shit, I’ve gotta go to my next lesson.”

Steve clears his throat and looks away. “Oh - yeah, me too. We’re taking a hike today.”

“You sure you can handle that?”

“Probably not.” He points to himself with his thumbs. “I’m definitely outta shape.”

“Shut up,” you hiss. “You’re in perfect shape.”

“You thi-”

“Have you talked to Mia yet?”

Steve tenses slightly. While he’s very interested, something just feels off about seeing someone at camp. It’s a bit convoluted, he thinks - what’s he going to do when camp ends? He doesn’t just want to make out and leave. He wants more than that. And he’s not super sure if he’s going to find that with someone here. Still, he had talked to Mia at breakfast, and they agreed to have dinner together. She was beautiful - dark skin, dark hair, charming eyes. So he doesn’t know what his apprehension was. 

“We’re having dinner tonight,” he responds, voice a bit stiff. 

“You mean sitting together in a crowded cafeteria?”

Steve huffs. “I’m not sure what else there is to do.”

“Take her for a walk,” you suggest. “At sunset. On the lakeshore. That’s romantic.”

He shrugs. “I guess.”

“When was the last time you talked to a girl?”

Steve’s chest twists. “It’s been a while.”

“Just give it some time. She thinks you’re cute. It’ll work out.” 

You start to paddle back to the shore, and Steve calls out to you. “See you later?”

“Sure!” you call back. “As long as you don’t get lost in the woods!”

Steve wonders why you always say that, but he realizes it actually is _quite_ on the nose. 

===

You didn’t expect to have an identity crisis over Steve Harrington, but here you were. 

You pace your dorm that same night before heading to dinner, talking to yourself out loud. “He’s just cute. He’s cute. That’s it! Thinking he’s cute doesn’t mean I’m attracted to him.” You take a deep breath. “He’s just _cute_.”

But it didn’t help that Steve had changed so much. You couldn’t even call back to the memories of him being an asshole, because they weren’t relevant anymore. Well, they _were_ , but you can’t hate the present Steve for it. He’d obviously gotten better. He was a dork, he was funny, he was kind, he smelled like pine and berries and -

“Shit!” you sigh, falling onto your bed. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, as if it would erase him from your memory. 

You hear a knock on your door and another counselor, Brooke, pokes her head in. “You comin’ to dinner?”

You sigh and sit up. “I _guess_.”

“What’s your damage?” she asks. “You look hung up on something.”

“ _Nothing_ ,” you say, standing and grabbing a jacket from the closet. 

“You’ve been so upset this year. Is it because of Steve?”

You whip around to face her. “It’s _not_ because of Steve!”

Brooke holds her hands up in defense. “Christ, _okay_. Then what’s it about?”

You pause, the fire in your eyes dimming. “Does - does thinking someone is conventionally attractive mean you like them?”

She scoffs. “What? No. You can say someone is cute but not like them.” She walks around you and sits on your bed. “But who is it?”

“Brooke -”

“You gotta tell me. It’s the _rules_.”

You sigh heavily. The cabin had made a pact that they’d tell anyone about their crushes - and all that got you was everyone talking about Steve. Now you’re thinking about Steve just like they are, and it gives you heartburn.

“They go to another school,” you say slowly. 

“Cut the shit,” she says. “Is it Josh?”

You freeze - _Josh!_ He’ll do. “How’d you know?”

Brooke beams. “I just know. You guys have this cute little love-hate relationship.”

 _Love-hate_. It makes your stomach turn. “You got me.”

“C’mon,” she says, standing and taking your arm. “Let’s go to dinner and spy on him.”

In theory, it was a good plan - but you knew you’d be looking at Steve the whole night.

===

By the end of the week, you feel like the crisis has been averted. Mia and Steve were eating meals and spending their free time together, and the distance put between you two helped. You chalked it up to your brain going crazy over nothing, anxiety grasping at straws. You were starting to feel happy for him and Mia, who seemed to be having a good time together. 

Steve sits with you instead of her Friday at lunch, though. Outwardly he passes it off like it’s not a big deal, but he _knows_ he’s fucking up. He just needs some separation is all, and he hadn’t seen you in a while. He just wanted to catch up - that was it. Nothing wrong with that, right?

“How was your week?” he asks. “Do anything fun?”

“Not really,” you admit. “What about you?”

He shrugs. “Been okay.”

“Just okay?” you laugh. “You and Mia seem to be having fun.”

He stiffens just as he did on the lake. “Yeah, it’s been good.” He clears his throat. “So - I took the kids on a hike Monday.”

“Right, how’d that go?”

“Really great,” he says. “We found a really nice waterfall and the water’s deep enough to swim in.” His eyes light up. “We should go!”

You pause. “Yeah, sure. That sounds… fun. When?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“I am,” you say slowly. “Uh - should Mia come?”

“She’s got a project to do with her class. Is that okay?”

 _No_ , you think. You’re afraid of being alone with him again, afraid of the feelings coming back. “It’s cool.”

“What about two? It’ll give us time to sleep in.”

“Let’s meet at the fire pit,” you say, collecting your things. Your anxiety was creeping back in, face flushing. “Two o’clock.”

“I’ll see you then.”

As you walk away, Steve watches. He’s not sure what his deal is, but he really likes hanging out with you. He’s not sure if it’s relief from making amends with you, or something else. He just knows he enjoys your company - maybe even a bit more than he enjoys Mia’s. 

He shakes that thought out of his head, though, and goes to gather his things. But the kids suddenly appear, slamming their trays down in an array around him. Suzie’s accompanied them, acclimating well with the group. 

“Hey, lovebird,” Dustin says, smiling. 

Steve’s stomach churns. “Don’t call me that.”

“It’s nice to see you with a girl that likes you back,” Max says. Steve glares at her, but he knows she’s just kidding. 

“Can we talk about _anything_ else,” Mike groans, and El swats his arm gently, shushing him. 

“What’s her name again?” Will asks.

“It’s Y/N,” Lucas responds casually, beginning to go ham on a jell-o cup. 

Dustin and Steve both freeze. Steve’s blood feels cold in his veins and his eyes widen. “What?” he asks hoarsely. 

Lucas looks up, mouth full of jell-o. “That’s her name, right? The one you were just sitting with?”

Steve feels sick. “No, I’m seeing Mia.”

The table goes silent, and Max kicks Lucas under the table. He throws an arm out, apologizing to her with his eyes, and Mike almost cackles. He doesn’t for fear of retribution from El. 

“Sorry,” Lucas says, turning to Steve. “You guys just hang out together a _lot_.”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” Steve says defensively. 

“Had me fooled,” Lucas shrugs. 

Max turns to him with wide eyes. “You are _so_ tone deaf!”

“What? Am I wrong?”

Everyone’s quiet, because he isn’t. It seems very obvious from their outside perspective that Steve is into you, except he isn’t. Or maybe he is. He can’t really unpack that right now. 

“Gotta go,” Steve mumbles, grabbing his tray and heading off. Dustin gets up, patting Suzie on the arm to tell her _I’ll be right back._

Dustin catches Steve just outside. “Don’t listen to them.”

Steve runs his hand through his hair, the other resting on his hip. “I don’t - I don’t want people to think….” He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. 

But Dustin understands. “ _Do_ you?”

“What? No,” Steve says quickly. “We’re just friends, Dustin, _honest_.”

Dustin nods. “Then don’t worry about what they think.”

Steve runs his hand through his hair again. “I’ll try. ‘m gonna try to find Mia.”

“Good luck, my liege.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles softly. He extends his arms for them to do their handshake, starting to giggle about halfway through. He gently punches Dustin’s shoulder when they’re finished. “You mean a lot to me, dude.”

Dustin grins toothily. “Go get your girl.”

Steve salutes and walks off, but his good mood falters. He considers cancelling your plans tomorrow, but pushes past that. You’re just friends. You’ll always be friends. A simple hike and swim tomorrow isn’t going to change that. 

===

The next day is gloomy, but it’s good for hiking. The air is cool on your bare arms as you and Steve head off into the woods, small bags in tow. 

“It’s about three miles in, so I hope you don’t mind a hike,” he says, rolling his shoulders to adjust the straps of his bag. 

“That’s the point of this, isn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes and elbows you gently. “Don’t forget swimming.”

“Did you find it yourself?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure I’m not the first person to find it,” he explains. “We don’t have waterfalls in Hawkins, so it’s pretty neat.”

“You sound easy to please.”

“I am,” he grins. “Can’t you tell?”

“Do you live by the woods?”

“Oh, God, yeah,” he says. “My backyard is lined with them. It’s kind of all there is in Hawkins.”

“Do you like them?”

Steve goes quiet, remembering all the bad that’s happened in them.

“I’ll take that as a no,” you say.

“They can be… intimidating,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “These woods aren’t like those ones at all.”

“How so?”

“Well,” he starts. “These ones are brighter. More welcoming. The trees aren’t too thick, so the sun can come through. It’s easier to see through them.”

“Scared something’s hiding there, Stevie?”

He blushes at the nickname, but he frowns. He stares straight ahead and avoids the question. You glance at him and then back at the trail, the silence not bothering you so much. You just appreciate the company, even if it makes you anxious. 

Eventually, you both come across a clearing, a waterfall and swimming hole centered in the middle, surrounded by trees and rocks and moss. It was beautiful, and you whisper, “Holy shit,” out loud. 

“Pretty nice, huh?” Steve smiles. 

“You’ve really outdone yourself.”

He smiles over at you and you head to it, putting your bags down. Steve takes his shirt off, rolling it up and shoving it into his bag, keeping his shorts on to swim in. You divert your eyes from him as you peel off your own shirt and shorts, leaving you in a bathing suit. 

Steve stares, and you blush heavily. “What?”

He blinks. “I feel underdressed.”

You sigh in relief and fold your clothes. “That’s your fault.”

You both get in, gasping the entire time because the water is so god damn _cold_ , and wade for a while to get used to it. The cold water brings you to your senses a bit, and you feel more comfortable with him. You smile cheekily at him and say, “It’s nice to be somewhere that we can _actually_ splash each other.”

His eyes get wide. “Don’t splash my hair.”

“Why? Don’t want the product to run out of it?”

He whips his arm and splashes you with water, making you gasp and shout. You rear up to splash him back, but he lunges for you, pulling your arms down. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” he laughs, tugging on your arms before pulling away. “I’ll sue you.”

“Your dad has a good lawyer, huh?”

It’s a low blow, but it only _slightly_ hurts. “Of course.”

You both talk and wade for hours, the water slowly starting to feel warm on your skin. The clouds hang heavy in the air, but the atmosphere is light around Steve. He does some stunts for you, like front flipping off of a peak, and you clap sarcastically for him. He stops after a while, resting in a shallow part of the water as you float in the deep end. 

“Steve?” you ask.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

He laughs, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Are you still having nightmares?”

He stills and frowns. “No, I haven’t had any.”

You’re silent for a moment. “Do you usually have them?”

“I do when I’m at home.”

You’re quiet again, the sound of the water taking up the silence. “It sounds like a lot of bad stuff happened at home.”

Steve can’t help but to laugh, as it’s the understatement of the century. You frown at him, and he shrugs. “You could say that.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“It’s okay.”

“Well, I’m here for you.”

“I just don’t get it,” he says after a moment, pulling himself out of the water. 

You furrow your brows and laugh. “What don’t you get?”

“How you’re so nice to me.”

You laugh again, confusion etched on your face. “Am I always an asshole or something?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I just… after everything….”

You frown and swim to him, resting your forearms on the rock he’d climbed out onto. “Do you want me to be an asshole?”

“No. I just - I _deserve…_ you shouldn’t be nice to me.”

You pull yourself out now, sitting beside him, frowning more. You look at him for a while, pulling your knees up to your chest. Finally, you whisper, “You said you don’t remember.”

“I don’t,” he says softly, staring at the moss that stretched up the cold stone. “I just... don’t remember.”

You feel anger bubbling in your gut. “How don’t you remember?”

“I remember some things.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I remember one time I tripped you and you fell on the gravel. I remember that your blood was so _red_. I remember feeling so _bad_ , but I made my friends laugh, and that was more important to me.”

You turn to him, pointing to a long scar on your knee. “You did this that day.”

He stares at it for a long while before looking up at you, tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

You soften a bit. “What else do you remember?”

“I remember when Tommy stole your clothes from the pier. I remember telling him to stop, but he asked me if I was a pussy, and I didn’t want to be… so I just. Let him do it.”

“That _sucked_ ,” you say. “That really _fucking_ sucked.”

“I can’t even imagine,” he says, so quietly that you can hardly hear him. He shakes his head slightly. “Everything else I remember doesn’t matter. I don’t know if it’s from concussions or what. I just… try so _hard_ to forget who I was. But it doesn’t work.” He sniffles. “Because I know… I know that I did those things. And I’m sorry I can forget while you have to remember.”

It’s quiet for a while. You absentmindedly trace your scar with your index finger, brows furrowed hard. It’s odd to feel like this around him - like you’re mad, but you’re not. Because you have a memory that you kept, buried deep down, because you didn’t want to remember the good he did. 

But he did good things. 

“There was one time at night,” you start. “We were playing tag. And it was so pretty. The sky was pink and the fireflies just started to come out.” You look at him. “Do you remember?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“It was stupid,” you say, starting to smile. “The game, I mean. We all kept cheating because we didn’t want to lose. We’d say that we weren’t actually touched when we were. It made the game complicated.” You press your lips together for a moment. “And then Tommy… he just. Shoved me.” You mimic it, how hard he pushed at you. “And I fell right on my face in mud.”

Steve’s tense, his hands clenched into fists, holding the fabric of his wet shorts within them. You can almost see a vein popping out of his temple, his jaw clenched so tight, and you want to reach out and smooth it. But you continue.

“And I was so _pissed_. I could have murdered him, Steve. And I wanted to cry, because I had mud, like, everywhere. And I felt so dumb and stupid and - it _hurt_ , you know? But then you came out of nowhere when Tommy ran away.” You pick at some grass, growing through a crack in the stone. “I thought you were there to finish me off. But you took off your shirt, and you cleaned me up. Best as you could, with a dry shirt.”

Steve turns to you quickly, his features softening. He furrows his brows and shakes his head slightly in disbelief. 

“It’s true,” you say. “It happened. And I just _stared_ at you, like, what the hell are you doing? But you kept cleaning me up. And you kept asking if I was okay, and you kept saying you were sorry. And I thought that was so weird, because you didn’t do it. You could apologize for Tommy, but not for yourself.” You smile sadly. “Maybe because it _was_ Tommy and the others the whole time.”

“No,” Steve says. “It was me. I did those things.”

“You did,” you agree. “But you didn’t have… y’know, pure malicious intent. Because you’re _good_ , Steve Harrington. Right to your core.”

Steve doesn’t understand why you’re saying this. Why you’re coddling him. Why you’re making excuses for him. He’s felt shitty for so long, about _everything_ \- about high school, about being a shitty boyfriend, about being a child bully. 

“I don’t… you - I don’t deserve this,” he says weakly.

“Maybe not.” You smile slightly. “But I’ll still say it.”

He looks back at the moss, shoulders relaxing, and you can’t help but to reach out for him. You lace your fingers through his and squeeze, like you did at the bonfire and on the shore. You bring it close to you, resting it on your knee, your hand still locked in his. 

“What matters is that you’ve changed,” you say. “And I know you have. Everyone knows you have. You’re not who you used to be. And, yeah, you’ll always carry that person with you. But they’re only a fraction of what you are now. And you’re good now. You’ve always been good… you were just… misguided.”

“I don’t deserve this,” he repeats, and you elbow him gently.

“You deserve every good thing. You’re sweet and kind and caring, and you’re funny, even if you’re dumb sometimes.”

He looks at you, giving you a tear filled smile. “Yeah, I’m pretty stupid sometimes, huh?”

You lean into his side, squeezing his hand once more. “Only _sometimes_. You’re smart in your own way.”

A silence stretches over you two again. You feel so comfortable here, in the silence with Steve - his warm hand in yours, soft and smooth and big, your side nuzzled into his. It should scare you, but it doesn’t. It just feels right. 

Steve wants to tell you everything. He wants to tell you about the last three years - about having his ex girlfriend’s best friend die in his pool, so he can’t use it anymore; how he almost died because some dickhead tried to beat him to death for standing up for a kid; how his ex girlfriend called him bullshit and left him for someone he was told not to worry about; how he was drugged and trapped in a secret Russian base under his part-time job. He wants to spill it all; he wants to hear your words of encouragement, soothing his wounds like aloe. He wants to hear you call him brave, and strong. He wants to hear a lot of things from you - and it’s scary, but _good_. He knows he can’t, but he wants to, and it kills him. 

Instead, he decides to share some things he _does_ remember with you. 

“I remember some other things,” he says. “Good things."

“Like?”

He smiles. “You used to wear your hair in those pigtails with pink scrunchies.”

“God,” you laugh. “Don’t bring that up.”

“And you would laugh so loud.” He laughs with you. “You could hear it from the other side of camp.”

“It’s _still_ loud,” you say.

“It’s nice,” he says. “You used to be so quiet except for your laugh. I always liked it.”

You pull away from him slightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “No way.”

“Yes, way,” he says. “I always wanted to -” And he stops, staring at you, smile faltering. 

“Always wanted to what?”

“Y’know,” he whispers. “Be the one to - to make you laugh.” He quirks his brows and shakes his head, looking down. “I don’t mean it like _that_.”

You want to ask him “like what?” so desperately, more than anything - but you stay quiet, averting your eyes as well. Steve unravels his hand from yours, leaving you feeling cold, and he clears his throat.

“I told you, I remember a lot of insignificant things,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

You quirk your head. “Memories of me are insignificant?”

He looks at you, shocked. “No. Memories of you are some of the best I have.”

You feel like you’ve fallen through a trapdoor, the breath knocked out of you. It’s bizarre, how he remembers you so fondly, while you’ve remembered him as being the person who ruined your life. It almost makes you angry, but he looks so innocent sitting before you - his eyes soft, slightly frowning, brows knitted together. You have the urge to reach out for him again until your senses kick in - this is _wrong_ , this is all wrong, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. 

You stand quickly. “It’s getting late, we should probably head back before it gets dark.”

Steve frowns, unsure if he upset you or not, but he pulls himself up. He’s pretty sure he didn’t mean anything by it, at least. It’s true - the few _good_ memories he has of you always make him smile, make him feel warm and good. He’s never unpacked that, and he has no intentions to. It’s just memories. You’re not that little girl anymore, and he’s not that little boy. It doesn’t matter. 

You gather your things, throwing your dry clothes back on over your wet ones, and take off. It’s only about six, but the clouds in the sky make it seem darker, almost more sinister. You don’t think much of it, but Steve notices, putting him on high alert. 

About a mile into the walk, a deer approaches the two of you, getting incredibly close. You gasp with glee, looking at Steve to see if he’s seeing this. 

“Look how close it is!” 

But Steve’s filled with dread. Something’s not right. He claps to see if it runs off, but it doesn’t. 

“What the hell?” you ask him. “It’s just a deer. We’re like princesses right now.”

Steve’s hardly listening, surveying the land, and then he realizes - the woods are dead quiet. 

“What’re you -”

 _“Shh!”_ He holds his hand out to beckon you to be quiet, and you shut up quickly. Steve’s typical goofy behavior is gone, replaced with a hard face and a tense body. You’d never seen him like this, even when he’s obviously remembering something that’s upset him. It makes you scared, and you take a step closer to him. “Steve?”

“Listen,” he whispers, frozen in place. 

You strain your ears. “I don’t hear anything.”

He looks over at you, eyes wide. “Exactly.”

At this point, the deer has gone away, leaving the two of you alone. You feel a bit eerie, but try to brush it off. “Steve, it’s alright.”

Steve scans the woods again, thankful for the space between the trees, before relaxing. He wraps an arm around you, walking you down the path. “Let’s go.”

You shrug him off of you, because you like the weight of his arm on you too much. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he says. He doesn’t want to admit that he has a bad feeling - like maybe if he shoves it down, it won’t amount to anything. “It’s just weird, that’s all.”

You start to wonder if maybe this is what his nightmares are about, the woods. You want to ask, but you know he won’t open up about it. So you continue to walk beside him, your mind wandering off to him. The spikes of anxiety do nothing to keep the thoughts of Steve out, as much as you wish they would. You wish you could forget him like he forgot you. You wish you could forget his dumb, long hair, with highlights, and how his lips always look glossy, and how strong his arms and hands are. You wish so desperately to forget, and by the time you return to camp, you feel sick. 

Steve’s relaxed by then, thankful that everything at camp seems fine. His smile is back, and he’s walking a little slower. “You going to dinner?”

“I think I should go to bed,” you say, voice hoarse. “I feel a little sick.”

He frowns. “Was it something I did?”

“No,” you explain quickly. “Just the excitement, I think.”

“Do you want me to grab you something and bring it to you? Or maybe Mia could -”

Your stomach twists painfully. “I’m _okay_ , Steve. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You march off to your cabin quickly, forcing tears back until you can collapse on your bed. Your roommate is luckily out, so you shut the door, fling yourself on your bed, and start crying. 

Every horrible emotion runs through you - sadness, anger, guilt, fear, remorse. It hits you like a tidal wave, leaving you shaking. So many thoughts go through your head. Thoughts that you never thought that you’d ever have.

It’s official - you’re into him. You like him. It’s a new feeling, foreign for you. You never once had a lick of attraction towards Steve until this summer, and it’s hit you so quickly that you hardly have time to recover. It should be a happy thought. It should be good, and freeing. But it’s everything _but_ that. It’s scary, and horrific, and anxiety inducing. 

You could have been friends. You could have gotten along. You both could have been lifelong friends, ones that turned to lovers. You could have sent each other letters when you weren’t at camp, ones that were riddled with confessions and feelings. You could have been there for each other, even if it didn’t turn to romance. You could have had a friend. The memories Steve had shared with you hurt, because he was never bad, and yet he _was_. It confuses you. It makes you mourn for what you could have had. 

If you ever see Tommy Hagan again, you’ll hit him on sight.

On the other hand, you’re longing for something with Steve now. The new Steve, the one who’s dorky and funny and charming. Caring, kind, sweet. You want it so desperately that it rips you up inside, makes your chest feel empty. And you know, without a doubt, nothing will ever happen. Nothing can ever happen. He’s your childhood bully and new friend. Nothing could happen between you two. Your pride is too big, and Steve’s with someone else. Someone _you_ had set him up with. 

You feel like an idiot. For liking him now and hating him then. For ever hating him. For ever _liking_ him. 

You cry heavily, burying your face into your pillow, and contemplate your next steps, when the door bursts open. 

You flip over, annoyed that your feelings were interrupted. Your roommate Jen is in the doorway, her eyes wide and face flushed, panting heavily. Your protests die on your lips and you jump up. _“What happened?”_

“One of the campers,” she pants. “They’re missing.”


	6. the lost (and the found)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Investigations into the disappearance of a camper ensue, while you and Steve confront your feelings.

You wipe your tears away swiftly, instantly sobered at the reveal. “What?”

“Some kid,” Jen says. “He’s just… gone.”

You hop out of bed, anxiously tugging your shoes on. As you head outside, you notice all of the counselors booking it to the usual conference room. Steve’s made it there before you, a worried Mia gripping onto him. Your heart twists and you force your eyes away, towards the front, where Josh and a few other counselors are chatting hurriedly. Eventually, Josh claps once, the room going painfully silent.

“Today around five, a camper was reported missing by his friends. Brent Albright. He’s twelve, about four foot eight, skinny little thing. He was last seen playing in the woods about a hundred yards from campus.”

Steve stiffens. He knows Brent - and he knows the resemblance to Will Byers is uncanny. His mind wanders to when Will went missing, his stomach flipping.

“We have a search party going out as soon as the local law enforcement gets here. Some of you need to stay behind to keep watch of the other kids. We’re upping the security on site - we’ll have two people patrolling all night, each night. At least until we find Brent.”

The teams separate, you and Mia heading with the search party while Steve books it for Dustin’s cabin, scared of what he might find.

===

Luckily, by the time Steve gets to Dustin’s room, the rest of the Party is there, Suzie included. Steve halts at this, shutting the door slowly. His eyes dart between Suzie and Dustin pointedly.

“Relax, she knows,” Dustin says, very nonchalantly, everyone else seemingly on board with this.

Steve lets out a noise of frustration, surprise, and anger. “You _told her?”_

“When it was safe to!” Dustin defends.

Steve rests his hands on his hips, sighing in frustration and anger again. “Well, great. That’s really just great.”

Dustin’s face contorts in anger. “Uh -”

“Look,” Steve interjects, turning to Suzie. “You’re great - lovely gal, really - but I don’t -”

“What’s the problem?” Lucas pipes up.

Steve turns to him quickly. “Oh, of _course_ you’re defending him, since you let Max in on the little _secret_ , too -”

“Hey!” Max shouts, brows furrowed in anger.

“Don’t get so upset, you know you’re my favorite -”

“ _Hey_ ,” El says.

“Alright - you too -” And Steve stops when he sees Will’s face, ghostly pale and frightened.

Steve and Mike are beside him first, Mike wrapping an arm around his shoulders while Steve kneels in front of him. “Hey, are you okay?”

He nods uncertainly. His hand slowly reaches for the back of his neck, and he shakes his head. “I don’t… feel him.”

“The Mind Flayer?” Mike clarifies.

“Yeah. I can’t feel him.”

The tension in the air evaporates slightly at this. Everyone had the same thought - what if it was the Upside Down again? It seemed to follow them everywhere, year after year. It wouldn’t be much of a shock if it had infiltrated their lives at camp.

“See? I told you it was nothing,” Lucas says. “It’s just some kid that got lost. I’m sure they’ll find him.”

Will winces slightly at the words and Steve frowns. “It’s not just some kid, Lucas. There’s… _bears_ and shit out there. He’s lost and _alone_.”

Everyone goes quiet, staring down at the ground - well, everyone except Suzie, who’s still not completely sure if everyone is bullshitting her or not.

“Can you feel anything, El?” Mike asks.

She furrows her brows as if concentrating. “I can’t tell… I feel like something’s there, but I don’t know _what_.”

Steve stiffens, but the others seem unphased.

“That could mean anything,” Dustin says.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too convenient for this to be happening here?” Steve asks, annoyed.

“It really could be anything, though,” Max says slowly. “I mean, he really could have gotten lost in the woods. They can be tricky.”

Mike stares at her as if she’s an idiot, but Steve nods gently in response. “They’re not as bad as the ones at home, but they can be disorienting….”

“I don’t think we should worry unless something’s _definitely_ wrong,” Lucas says. “Like, without a doubt, weird shit happening.”

Steve feels nauseous. “I just took a hike in the woods… something wasn’t right there.”

“What do you mean?” Will asks anxiously.

“It got so quiet,” Steve explains. “There wasn’t a sound. And a deer got so close to us… something just didn’t seem right.”

Everyone goes quiet again, contemplating.

“Well, it could have been a bear,” Suzie says, her high pitched voice piercing the silence. “I mean, animals get quiet to avoid predators, and there are definitely predators in the woods here.”

Steve gives a half-hearted shrug, and his eyes wander back to Will. He seems tense, his jaw locked, and Steve’s eyes meet his. At the look of fear and worry in his eyes, Steve stands, deciding to be the voice of reason. There’s no need to worry the kids when things may just be unfortunate, but not _hellish_.

“You know, you’re right,” he says, running a hand through his long hair. “It’s probably nothing. Brent really may have just gotten lost. Until we know, let’s assume it’s an accident, okay?”

Everyone nods reluctantly, shoulders falling and breaths exhaled. Will’s eyes soften, but he still looks unsure. Steve gives him a reassuring smile and squeezes his shoulder. Will tries to return the smile, but it’s weak - Steve’s heart hurts. As the kids begin to disperse and talk among themselves, Steve pulls Will to the side.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “I’m not letting anything hurt you, or anyone else.”

Will freezes slightly. “I - I know.”

Steve always had a hard time talking to Will, genuinely not knowing what to do or say or how to act around him. He’s been through so much that Steve views him like an ancient artifact, too fragile to touch and too experienced to match.

“Your friends have your back, too,” he adds, albeit awkwardly. “Just - don’t feel unsafe. We’ll all protect you.”

Will nods, relaxing slightly, and he does something he hasn’t done with Steve before - he holds out his hand to shake. Steve takes it, confused but intrigued. They simply shake hands, Will giving him a warm smile, and then he walks off to the rest of the party. Steve’s brows quirk but he smiles, feeling accomplished - and then his heart plummets again as the reality of the situation sets in.

He wishes he could spend the night with the Party, truthfully. He’s a bit jealous that Will and Mike have each other in a room. Steve has Nico, but he’s pretty sure Nico was wigged out when Steve woke him up with a shout the night he had a nightmare. Steve’s face burns in embarrassment just at the _memory_. Hopefully the search party would be out for a while; Steve always felt safer when others were awake, able to protect him as he let his guard down. And then his mind wanders to Mia, hoping she’s doing okay, and then to you.

Steve feels a bit lightheaded when he thinks of you. The time at the waterfall felt like days ago, but it was only a few hours. He feels guilt for not checking on you sooner, for not catching you before you went to scour the woods. And he remembers your reaction to his in the woods, how scared and anxious you seemed. The guilt pumps thickly through his veins and he sets a reminder to check on you in the morning - you were sure to have a long night.

Steve leaves the room as the Party continues to talk. He’s unable to even decipher the words they’re saying - he just wants to be in his little cot, curled up and safe under blankets. Dustin once again catches him as he’s leaving, though, grabbing Steve and forcing him to stop.

“What’s your problem?”

Steve opens his mouth to ask Dustin to elaborate, but remembers what he said about Suzie’s knowledge of the situation. His gaze hardens. “You shouldn’t be telling people about this. That’s putting your life in danger, and hers, too.”

“So I’m just supposed to act like nothing ever happened? I’m supposed to never tell her?”

Steve sighs. “That’s not what I’m saying -”

“That’s what it sounds like -”

Steve’s anger flares. “I’m saying that maybe you shouldn’t be giving life altering information to a girl you’ve been dating for what? Six months?”

“We’ve been dating for over a _year_ , Steve!”

“You could get her and her family killed over this, Dustin -”

“Just because you won’t open up to people that love you doesn’t mean that I can’t!”

Steve stills, his anger deflating and replaced with sorrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, but he knows _exactly_ what it means, and he doesn’t like being called out on it.

“You’ve avoided new friends this entire time because you refuse to have any type of meaningful conversations with anyone _except_ those you share trauma with.” Dustin’s eyes are narrowed onto Steve, even though Steve attempts to look away. “Have you even told Mia?”

“Of _course_ not,” Steve spits, anger coming back. “I’ve only been seeing her for like, a week -”

“Then what about Y/N?”

Steve scoffs, but he panics. “ _No_.”

“Did you want to?”

“You don’t understand,” Steve stresses, forcing a change in subject. “You read what we had to sign. We aren’t supposed to tell people about this. _Anyone!_ Not our parents or our partners -”

“I know what we signed!” Dustin interjects. “But there’s nothing wrong with telling someone you _trust_ about this. And there’s definitely nothing wrong with opening up to people in general.”

“I’m not like you, Dustin.”

Dustin squints. “No shit.”

“So hop off _my_ shit, okay?”

“Whatever,” Dustin huffs. “Just - go be alone, up on… up in your little _King Steve_ palace -”

“Yeah? Fine, I will!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Steve turns on his heel and sulks off into the dark, anxiety creeping in as the light from the cabin dims and is replaced with the steel curtain of night.

===

The search party finds nothing the first week.

It’s a gruesome task, sifting through the woods, finding no leads. Park Rangers and local law enforcement came in to set up an investigation. Rumors spread amongst the campers and counselors in regards to closing, but there were only two weeks left, and it was _only one kid_. Instead, a curfew was established, and counselors took turns patrolling the grounds in pairs at night.

It was, to say the least, a very stressful time. Your neck and back hurt from bending over in the woods for hours on end the first week, desperately trying to find any signs of the kid. You felt sick the entire week, hardly able to teach your classes, and hardly able to keep the kids’ attention. You noticed the stress was working hard on other’s, too - Steve and Mia had hardly talked, and you’d only briefly caught up with Steve. He had been spending most of the week patrolling the camp. He couldn’t sleep much even if he tried.

Friday, six days after the incident, things seemed to settle down. The camp had pretty much come to the conclusion that it was a freak accident, that the kid probably was attacked by a bear in the vicinity. Some kid’s parents had them leave early, and some came to hotels and motels nearby to be closer to their kids. One of these people was Jim Hopper, who volunteered to team up with local law enforcement to teach everyone about wilderness safety.

Steve knew why Hopper was really here, though - to keep an eye on Will and El. He’d promised Joyce he had it under control; he just wanted to take some precautions. Steve wasn’t sure if Hopper’s presence in the area was comforting or horrifying, but he figured it was the former. At least he didn’t have to be the only adult here. And the kids felt safer with him too, at least.

Friday night, a counselor proposed a bonfire to help everyone relax and unwind. You decided to go, if for nothing more than to just _talk_ \- it had been a lonely and tense week. You also, of course, hoped Steve would be there. You hardly caught a glimpse of him all week, only once out on the lake in his kayak.

When you do see him, you almost wish you hadn’t.

Steve hadn’t slept in at least four days. The last night he slept - Sunday, he thinks - had been filled with Demogorgons and gore and hopelessness. Calling Robin on the payphone only did so much (and he couldn’t reveal much over the phone), and while he and Dustin had reconciled, Steve didn’t want to overwhelm the kids with his worry. He wanted to be strong and brave for them, but he could hardly be that for himself. So he strolls up to the bonfire, looking ragged and ghastly, almost like a ghost. His frame is thin and he’s pale, his under eyes purple and puffy.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, walking up to him. “You look like Dracula.”

“He’s sexy, right?” he jokes, a weak smile on his face.

You blush and roll your eyes, still frowning with worry. “Have you slept?”

He shakes his head gently. “Haven’t really got the chance.”

Your brows quirk. “Haven’t got the chance, or haven’t _let_ yourself?”

Steve’s impressed with how easily you see through his bullshit. He shrugs. “Maybe both.”

You guide him to sit with you on a long log by the fire. You have to force yourself to not hold him, but it’s very difficult. You were so worried about him, about his zombie-like appearance. But you didn’t want to pass any boundaries - you weren’t totally sure if he was still with Mia or not.

Almost like he read your mind, Steve speaks up. “Mia is patrolling tonight.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can say. You want to ask if he’s seen her, if they’re still a thing, if you have a chance, but you instead focus on the fire.

The night goes on, and you talk with some of the other counselors. Conversation is light but weary, and the alcohol two boys had snuck in was gone within the first thirty minutes. You turn to ask Steve if he wants a drink, but you’re met with his head resting on your shoulder. You didn’t even notice that he’d clocked out, and your brows furrow while your stomach fills with butterflies.

You contemplate whether or not you should wake him up - he obviously needed the rest. You let him stay there, continuing to mingle, but staying perfectly still so that he didn’t wake up.

Steve’s eyes finally open around midnight, as the fire is taming down. He sits up and looks around, dazed and confused, before realizing that you’re beside him. He blinks in surprise. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I didn’t want to wake you up, so I….”

He stretches, his shirt riding up his stomach, revealing a sliver of skin. You pull your eyes back to the burning embers.

“You must be like a sleeping pill or something,” he says, voice slurring from sleep. “Really knocked me out.”

Your lips quirk up. “Maybe I’m just boring.”

Steve knows it’s not because you’re _boring_ ; it’s because he’s comfortable with you. The moment he sat down beside you, he felt safe and protected. It allowed him to let his guard down just long enough to slip into a dreamless sleep, and that’s really all he could ever ask for.

He doesn’t vocalize this, though. He doesn’t know how to. “No, not boring. Just warm.”

It makes no sense and perfect sense at the same time. You blush and look down, wishing he was still leaning on you. Steve scoots away from you and you frown, the absence feeling like you’ve lost something.

“Hey,” you whisper. “Want me to walk you back to your cabin?”

He nods slowly, sleep clouding his vision. You stand and he grabs your hand, using it to help him get up. You laugh slightly and start walking him towards his cabin, staying close beside him. Something about him made you feel safe - whether it was your crush on him or just Steve, you weren’t sure.

“This sucks,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, it all sucks,” he clarifies, “but I mean that it sucks that I know I can’t sleep tonight, and they won’t let me do rounds anymore.”

“That’s because you need sleep,” you say gently. “You have to rest.”

“But I can’t.” His tone almost sounds like he’s amused. Steve looks off into the distance, at the treeline, sinister in the night. “ _God_ , trauma sucks.”

You don’t know what to say to make it better, so you snake your hand down to his, lacing your fingers again. Steve hums and relaxes, his shoulders dropping and his pace slowing. It’s almost an enjoyable walk, just the two of you in silence, nothing else but the wind and the lake lapping the shore behind you.

You slow as you reach his cabin, and Steve becomes stiff once again. His brows furrow with worry, and you notice.

“You’re safe,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, frowning. “I know….”

Steve turns to face you then, and you both stand like this, facing each other, faces illuminated by the moonlight. You think he looks so pretty, so beautiful, even with the bags under his eyes. You wish he’d kiss you, embrace you and tell you that you mean something to him.

And Steve, in his sleep deprived state, also begins to realize just how pretty you are, too. It’s something he’s always known, even when he was a jerk. Something fond to think about, at least one beautiful thing from his youth. His brows twitch as he looks down at you, at your soft eyes, the care and adoration held within them.

Steve’s realization doesn’t hit him quite the same as yours did. It’s almost like a slow rush, like finishing a puzzle. Dots begin to connect, memories come back, and he realizes that, _holy shit_ , he likes you. He likes you a lot. He’s liked you for years. The good things he’s remembered - they were because of his affection for you. That’s why he remembers your laugh and your pigtails and your blue beaded bracelet. That’s why he forced away the icky, dirty things.

Because he liked you. And he always has.

While he’s processing this, you’ve formed a bit of a plan. You’re nervous to ask, but you do anyway. “What if you spent the night with me?”

Steve’s long streak of thoughts comes to a halt, crashing, his mind left blank. His brows knit together. “What?”

You blush and step back, almost like you’re stepping back behind a boundary. “I just - you slept so well earlier - maybe if we were together… we’d sleep better?”

Steve blinks. “Oh.”

“Forget -”

“No, let’s do it,” he whispers, rushedly. “I… I think that’s a good idea.”

Steve sees the adoration and care in your eyes, but he can’t imagine it has any weight to it. You never let on that you liked him. So this situation is almost a win-win for him; he can pretend for _one night_ that the universe is in place and not out to get him, and he can get some rest.

“Are you sure?” you ask, barely audible.

He nods. “I’d really like some sleep.”

“Jen’s patrolling tonight,” you whisper. “I can - we can - sneak you in.”

Steve smiles lazily. “I’ve always said I’m like a ninja.”

===

Sharing a bed with your crush is not as phenomenal as the movies make it out to be.

Steve’s pressed himself up against the wall, as far away from you as the twin bed would allow him to be. You lay on your back, eyes wide. It’s an awkward situation, and you nearly regret suggesting it. You lay like this for twenty minutes, then forty, and then it’s two a.m, and you can still hear Steve’s rapid breathing beside you.

“Steve,” you whisper.

“Hmm?”

You blink up at the ceiling while cursing yourself. Your hands ball into fists beside you and you finally croak, “You can come closer.”

You hear his breath hitch. “I… I’ll smother you.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mon, Steve.”

It’s a minute before he rolls over, facing you, his body touching yours. You both feel like a jolt of electricity has been shot through you, and you wince before melting into each other.

You will yourself to stay on your back. Even while you can feel Steve’s warm brown eyes on your temple. You can feel his warm torso on your arm, too, the skin of his forearm close to the side of your head. Temptation wins, though, and you roll over to face him.

Your breath catches, like you’ve been hit by something massive. Steve looks so peaceful here. You take the time to notice some things you hadn’t before, since you’d never been this close. The stray hairs under his brows, how long his lashes are. How pink his lips are, how straight his nose is. You notice a scar on his right brow and reach out to touch it gently with your fingertips. “What’s this?”

“Scar,” he whispers.

“What happened?”

Steve swallows hard and shakes his head. “You should see the rest of them.”

You frown and drop your hand, but Steve gently picks it back up, placing it on his cheek. He looks at you softly, asking for permission, and you cup his cheek. Your thumb rubs across his cheekbone and his eyes flutter shut. Your heartbeat is through the roof, and it only gets worse when Steve reaches out to pull you in to him. You blush, both from attraction and embarrassment, because he can surely feel your heart beating rapidly against his chest.

“Where else?” you ask, voice shaking.

His brow quirks. “Hm?”

“Where else are there scars?”

He pauses, contemplating, but remembers but Dustin had told him. _There’s nothing wrong with opening up to people._ So he lifts his right hand, where it had punched Billy Hargrove years earlier, a cut on his knuckle turning into a silver stripe. You pull your fingers away from his cheek and to the scar, touching it gently. You want to kiss it - God, you want to kiss it so much - but you pull your lips into a thin line instead.

Steve drops his hand and it goes for his shirt, his fingertips rubbing gently over his ribs. “Here.”

You wonder what the hell had happened to him. You don’t ask; instead, you move your hand slowly to the hem of his shirt. You look at him and he nods, giving you permission to run the pads of your fingers to the area. His eyes flutter shut again and he focuses in on the feeling of your fingers, caressing him gently, almost lovingly. It feels nice to let someone touch him like this. Not sexual, not even romantic - just with care.

You lick your lips and feel his skin, soft and warm, a little uneven in the area where he’d been brutalized the year before. Steve opens his eyes to watch your face before his eyes trail down to your arm, pushed up under his shirt. His heart speeds up and you can feel it, hard and fast under your fingertips. You pull away at that, blushing once more, your heart rate beating in time with his.

Steve’s tongue darts out and he studies your expression. You look peaceful. Maybe a bit confused, but peaceful. In place. His hand reaches up to his lip slowly, another place that he’d been hit before. His finger lays lightly on a small scar that spreads from the corner of his bottom lip and down. He stares at you the entire time, almost painfully, like he has something he wants to say. You only reach out and replace his finger, rubbing the small mark gently.

You want to ask him what you’re both doing. It’s a weird dance, almost. It’s laced in something beyond friendship and sealed with a bow, but what _it_ is, you’re not sure. Your hand moves away from his face and you finally look down. Your eyes stay focused on his grey shirt, at the pattern of the fabric.

“I have a hell of a concussion, too,” Steve whispers.

You look back up at him and smile. “Maybe that’s why you’ve forgotten so much.”

He frowns slightly. “Maybe.” He pauses for a beat. “Do you have any?”

“Scars?”

He nods.

You reach for his hand and pull it down towards your knee, to the scar you’d shown him at the waterfall. His fingertips press into it gently, and there’s a pained look on his face. “I wish I could take it away.”

You frown. “You can’t.”

“Wish I could.”

You wish so, too. But his fingers rubbing soothingly on it almost takes it away; if not physically, than emotionally.

Steve’s hand wanders up your thigh and to your hip, gripping it just slightly. He almost looks like he’s pouting at you, and you’re not sure what it means. You just know you like the touch. You know you want to kiss him, and you know you can’t. It feels like you’re drowning, or intoxicated at the feeling of his hand on you, soft and strong, just as it always felt in yours.

“Hey,” you say. “You should get some sleep.”

His hand falls from your body and onto the sheets. He nods and his brows furrow for just a millisecond. “I… can you….” He clears his throat. “Can you stay close to me?”

You think it’s funny that he can’t say _hold me,_ but you relent. You wrap your arms around him and he melts into you once again, feeling safe. It’s only a few moments later when you both fall asleep.

===

Steve sneaks out before the sun rises, leaving the bed beside you empty and cold. You’re sober this morning. You’re pretty sure you should not have shared a bed with him, or touched him - is that considered cheating? Are you an asshole? You reckon you’ll find out.

You officially get up a few hours later, pulling on your uniform lazily. Your stomach flips at the thought of Steve, and then flips again when you open your door to find Mia.

You know immediately that she knows. She must have seen him leaving when she was patrolling.

“Mia….” It’s all you can manage to croak out.

She laughs, warm and gentle. “I’m not mad.”

You blink. You lick your lips and shake your head, massively confused. “Are we thinking of the same thing?”

She comes into your room and you shut the door slowly, still quite confused. She sits on the bed and looks up at you. She looks wise and all-knowing. “I _knew_ you had a thing for him.”

“I didn’t,” you protest.

She tilts her head. “C’mon. Remember when I saw you staring at him on the lake?”

You sigh and cross your arms. “I didn’t _think_ I did.”

“We all knew,” Mia says matter-of-factly. “Everyone except you.”

You scoff. “Who’s everyone?”

“Em, Syl, Jen, Brooke, Syd, Kara… even Josh knew. Why do you think he set you up at the beginning?”

_“What?_ ” you ask, shocked. “I wasn’t - I never - I _never_ liked him at the beginning -”

“Maybe not,” Mia smiles. “I guess he really just saw the potential.”

You roll your eyes and Mia beckons you to sit down beside her. She wraps an arm around you and leans into you. “I just wanted to see him for fun, you know. See if he was a good kisser. It wasn’t anything serious.”

“So you’re not mad?”

She sighs. “I’ll miss that boy’s lips and hands, but I’m not mad. We would have called it quits when camp was over. It was just a fling.”

You both sit in silence for a few moments before she speaks again. “You should really go for it.”

Your heart jumps to your throat. “I don’t think….”

“He likes you, too,” she says. “I’m pretty sure of it.”

You look at her with a frown. “I couldn’t do that to you.”

She smiles. “I’m just happy I was right. You _do_ like him.”

You can’t help but to smile back. “Were there bets going?”

“Oh, yeah,” she says. “Brooke owes me ten dollars because she thought you’d never actually admit it. But _I_ knew you would.”

You hug her then, relief flowing through you. Then you pull away and shove her. “I can’t believe you placed bets -”

The door swings open and Jen is there again, panting once more, eyes filled with fear. You and Mia jump up.

“Did you find him?” you breathe.

Jen shakes her head. “No. _Another_ camper is missing.”


	7. the fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve, Hopper, and the Party talk theories while you and Steve engage in a feud.

The camp was on a full lockdown after the second camper went missing.

Campers now had to be escorted everywhere by a counselor. Counselors also had to escort each other. There was a sinister feeling in the air, one that left everyone uneasy. One camper going missing was one thing; _two_ going missing was another thing entirely. It didn’t seem like an unfortunate coincidence anymore. It seemed intentional and _evil_.

The people who thought this most were, of course, The Party, Jim Hopper, and Steve Harrington. The evening the news of the second camper broke, everyone squished themselves into a double bedroom, theorizing and planning.

Steve came late - he had to escort campers to the dining hall. His mind hasn’t thought of anything _except_ the missing camper. No one Steve talked to knew who it was, and he had no time to talk to you or any of the kids, beyond Mike telling him to meet in his room at nine. His chest felt tight all day, worried it was someone in the Party. Someone who had been trying to play hero and got caught up in whatever _this_ all was. His heart hammered as he rushed towards Mike’s cabin, slipping into the crowded room with his head spinning.

The room falls silent as he barges in. Hopper is sitting at Mike’s desk while everyone else is spread around the beds and the floor. Everyone looks fearful, and as Steve’s eyes scan the room, he notices the lack of Dustin. _Suzie_ is there, but no Dustin.

Steve’s heart drops.

“Where’s Dustin?” he asks, voice cracking.

“Relax,” Max says. “He snuck out to get pudding from the cafeteria.”

“Snuck out?” Steve hisses, but his body relaxes in relief. “He can’t be out there right now -”

“ _Steve_ ,” Hopper cuts in, and beckons him to take a seat.

Steve figures that if Hopper’s not concerned, then he shouldn’t be, either. He sits beside El and Mike on Mike’s bed, staying close to Hop as he waits for information.

Hopper keeps his hand over his mouth for a moment, deep in thought, before speaking, directly to Steve, the only other adult in the room. “The camper that went missing was the same age and size as Will.” He tilts his head towards Will, who seems almost catatonic in fear. “And the last camper that went missing was _also_ the same age and size as Will.”

“Well, what do you think that means?” Steve asks. “Do you think it’s looking for him?”

“Will said he can’t feel the Mind Flayer,” Mike interjects. “Right, Will?”

Will goes pale, eyes darting to the floor.

“Right, Will?” Mike repeats, a bit of an edge to his voice.

Will looks back up, shaking his head a little bit. His hand goes to the back of his neck and he shakes his head some more. “I can’t feel him, but I can feel him.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Max says, brows furrowed.

“It’s like… it’s like he’s not here, he’s there,” Will explains. “But _there_ is close.”

“The Upside Down?” Lucas asks, and Will nods.

“I think it’s close, but I don’t know how close,” he explains. “I can’t feel him in this realm, but I think I can feel him in the Upside Down.”

“I can feel it, too,” El says quietly.

Mike and Hopper look at her, scandalized.

“You can feel _it?_ Feel _what?_ ” Hopper asks.

“The Upside Down.” El shifts, pulling her legs up to her chest. “I can feel it nearby, but I can’t see it or find it.”

“Jesus,” Steve mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “So you think the Upside Down isn’t in Hawkins, it’s here?”

El and Will nod in unison, frowning.

“Well that’s just great,” Steve says, standing up. “That’s good. That’s _great_. So it _followed_ us.”

“Maybe it knew El and Will were here,” Lucas tries to explain, but Hopper shakes his head.

“Why would it want Will again?” he asks quietly. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“If they feel something, then it _has_ to be nearby,” Mike says. “Why would both of them feel it at the same time?”

“I don’t know,” Hopper says harshly. “But I’m taking you two -” he points at El and Mike, “back to Hawkins.”

 _“What?”_ everyone asks in unison.

“It’s not _safe_ for them here,” Hopper explains, raising his voice over the racket.

“It’s not safe for _anyone_ here,” Steve says, putting his hands on his hips. His heartbeat accelerates at the thought of you being here when this shit is happening. “We need to get to the bottom of this before anyone else gets hurt.”

The room falls quiet. Steve _knows_ , Steve _understands_ that no one wants to deal with this shit again. He gets that. But _someone_ has to, and if it has to be him, then so be it. That’s usually how it goes, anyway.

“ _I’m_ not leaving until we figure this out,” he says. “So if -”

The door opens and Dustin walks in, you on his heels, looking frazzled. Dustin has a copious amount of pudding cups balanced in his arms, and you’re carrying two - the ones he managed to drop. You’d found him sneaking around on his own and accompanied him, irritated that no one else went with him.

Everyone freezes at the sight of you, bodies going stiff. Your eyes scan the room, confused - there are way too many people in here, and you don’t know who the _hell_ this _grown ass man_ is. Your eyes fall to Steve, brows furrowed, and then you say, “Why didn’t anybody go with him?”

“Didn’t know he was going,” Steve says, pulling Dustin into the room.

Steve’s irritated - enraged, maybe. You weren’t supposed to be here - Suzie wasn’t, either, but he could at least control what _you_ were a part of. Dustin allowing you to come so far, literally into the room where they’re referencing things you could be _killed_ for, makes his blood boil. Dustin groans at the feeling of Steve’s fingers burying into his arm and he drops the pudding cups.

“God dammit,” Dustin says, shrugging out of his grip and rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?”

“It’s curfew,” you say awkwardly, not understanding what’s going on. “You should all be -”

“So should you,” Steve snaps.

You straighten at his tone, glaring at him. Steve sighs and steps towards the door, holding his hand up to the Party before slipping out with you.

“What the hell?” you whisper. “Why are you so pressed and who the _hell_ is that guy?”

“It’s nothing,” he lies. “I need you to go back to your cabin.”

You cross your arms. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m one of those kids,” you say, beckoning towards the door. “I can take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t be out -”

“I _wouldn’t_ be out if you’d just taken Dustin -”

“I didn’t know he was going!” he whisper-shouts, becoming more irritated. “Go back to your cabin.”

“You’re not the boss of me -”

“Right now, I am.”

You scoff, your own rage building. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Steve shakes his head and licks his lips, looking over your shoulder. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

Steve sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair again. “It’s complicated.”

You frown and your eyes soften, letting your shoulders relax. You can see how stressed he is and you step forward to reach for him, but he steps back, out of your reach. You frown further and your shoulders slump. “You can talk to me. You know I’m here for you.”

Steve’s inner turmoil reaches a near-boiling point here. He wants to tell you, just like he wanted to tell you at the waterfall. He wants to be like Dustin, he wants to trust and assume things will work out. But he doesn’t want you dead, and he doesn’t want you hurt. He doesn’t want you caught up in any of this. Steve feels his chest tighten, fighting with himself, before he makes the decision to push you away.

“You can’t be right now,” he says. He steps forward and puts his hands on your biceps, pushing you towards the exit. “You need to _go_.”

“Steve!” you nearly shout, pushing him off of you. “Do not _touch_ me like that.”

Like muscle memory, Steve’s angry venom takes hold of himself yet again, just as it did in high school. Without thinking, he snaps, “You didn’t say that last night.”

You pause in shock, his words running through your head. You scoff and shake your head. “What does that mean?”

Steve feels bile rising in his throat, and he _swears_ he can see Nancy standing before him, not you. He puts up the wall in a desperate attempt to not break down, his jaw clenching and fists balling up. “Don’t you ever stop to think _why_ I don’t tell you things? _Why_ I don’t trust you? _Why_ I didn’t want to touch you last night?”

“Shut _up_ ,” you whisper, feeling your chest twist. “You’re being an _asshole_.”

“I’ve been pushing you away my _whole life_ , why don’t you get the message?”

You know it’s a bluff, but you don’t understand why. You don’t get the total 180 he’s pulling, but you have a bad feeling in your gut. Like maybe he’s involved in shit he shouldn’t be involved in, or maybe he knows too much about the missing campers. Steve doesn’t seem evil, but his inability to open up to you makes you feel sick, and _angry_ , and hurt.

“ _Stop_ ,” you beg. “Stop being… stop being… you’re _bullshit_.”

You know it was a mistake the moment it left your lips, and Steve’s eyes hardening and welling with tears reinforces that. But you’re still mad, and you don’t think he has the right to be tearful right now, and it enrages you so much that you repeat it. “You’re bullshit.”

Steve feels the wall crashing down and he does everything to keep it up, locks his knees upright, clenches his fist, grits his teeth. “You think _I’m_ bullshit?”

“You really don’t care about me, do you?” you ask, trying to keep your own wall up, trying to not let the tears fall freely down your cheeks. “Is that why you can’t remember any good thing about me? Because you don’t want to? Because you don’t care?”

Steve doesn’t know what to say, because it’s all a lie. Of course he cares about you, of course he remembers you fondly. Of course he regrets the way he treated you. Of course he’s proud of the person he’s become, and of course he owes that to you.

But he can not and will not admit that right now.

“I don’t,” he says quietly, not even understanding the words leaving his own mouth. “I _don’t._ ”

You weren’t expecting that.

“You don’t?” you repeat.

“I don’t.” He says it louder this time, trying to convince himself it’s true. But he’s still mad, and he wants what he says to hurt, because you hurt him. “And you know what I think is bullshit?”

You don’t answer - you can only stare while forcing the tip of your tongue into the roof of your mouth.

He still remembers the words he told Nancy in the alley by the gym two years ago. _I think you’re bullshit._ He remembers the anger and heartbreak behind the words, how they hurt to come out, how they made his mouth dry and knees weak.

“I think _you’re_ bullshit,” he says, and then he walks back into Mike’s room, slamming the door behind him.

You stare at the pattern in the wood of the door, mind blank after that, before walking out, trying to push your tears back in with the heels of your palms.

===

Everyone looks up when Steve reenters, noticing how his cheeks are pink and splotchy and his eyes are wet and red. He speaks immediately, scared that someone will ask him about the talk they almost certainly heard through the door. “What’s the plan?”

“You and me,” Hop says, standing from his chair. “We’re going into the woods to see if anything’s going on, or if we can find any… _portals_.”

“And if we do?” Steve asks.

“I close them,” El says quietly.

“We have to find out if there are any, first,” Hopper says. He heads to the window and opens it, pulls out a cigarette and then lights it. “And if there are, we close them.”

Steve wonders why it sounds so easy, but maybe it’s because he’s suddenly not the only adult in this situation.

“I’ll get my bat,” he says, eager for the comfort of the heavy weapon in his hand.

Dustin hops up and follows him out, making Steve irritated once again.

“I’m not talking about it,” Steve hisses.

“You just sabotaged your _entire_ relationship with Y/N for _what?_ ” Dustin asks, pulling on Steve’s arm to make him stop walking.

“So that they don’t _die_ ,” Steve says, yanking his arm away. “Maybe you should try having some _discretion_ for once.”

“I told Suzie because I love her,” Dustin explains, fighting to keep up with Steve’s long strides. “And if she knows the kind of trouble she could be in, then that’s to her advantage.”

Steve whips around, pupils flaring. “How would knowing about this help? Did you forget about the entire stack of papers we had to sign? Did you forget that they could kill us and our families and the people we love if this shit gets out?”

“So you don’t trust her then?” Dustin asks.

“Of course I do,” Steve says, feeling sick again.

“Then why don’t you tell her?”

“Because I am _not like you._ ” Steve reaches his arm out, holding Dustin at bay, two fingertips digging into his chest. “Now back off. I’m not explaining myself again.”

Steve continues to walk towards his car, abandoned in the parking lot, but Dustin keeps up with him. Steve turns around again. “I’m serious, back off -“

“I’m not leaving you out here alone,” Dustin says quietly, looking a bit hurt at Steve’s rejection.

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before taking Dustin under his arm, walking slower so Dustin doesn’t have to run.

Nothing is said, but they both understand.

When Steve opens the trunk to his car, a wave of hot air hits him in the face, making him cringe and step back. He leans in for it and pulls it out, smiling fondly as he does, the familiar weight of it comforting. He’d packed it just in case - maybe he’d see a bear and would need it. He never thought he’d potentially have to use it on another Demogorgon.

“You still know how to use that thing?” Dustin asks.

Steve smiles and twirls it in his hand, giving it a few practice swings. “I didn’t score the winning shot on my fourth grade pee-wee team for nothing.”

Steve and Dustin walk side by side as they head back to Mike’s room, both feeling much better with the addition of the bat. Steve’s mind runs off towards you, his stomach twisting again as he processes what he’d said to you. He feels embarrassed and disgusted. He felt like he’d come _so far_ since high school, that he’d gotten over Nancy since October ‘84. It’s a let down for himself, but surely for you, too.

He convinced himself it was the right thing, though. He doesn’t need you to be caught up in this. And once they figure out if the Upside Down has something to do with this, he’ll apologize and come clean. He’ll tell you he was trying to protect you. He’ll tell you he cares about you.

He’ll prove it.

The door creaks open as Steve and Dustin come back in, Hopper finishing up another cigarette. He flicks it out the window and pulls it down, locking it into place.

“Let’s go over this again,” Hopper says.

Steve and Hop are to go into the woods to search for any type of portals or other things that are amiss. It’s a bit of a long shot, since there have already been search parties out for the two missing boys, but maybe they’d find something that the others looked over. The kids were to _stay put_ until Steve and Hop came back. After that, they’d reassess and complete the mission, if there is a mission at all.

Steve silently hopes that there’s nothing out there.

“Ready?” Hopper asks, his hand gripping his pistol.

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve replies dryly, his own hands gripping the shaft of the bat.


	8. the discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Hopper find a portal and head into it, but when things go wrong, the Party asks for your help.

“You see anything?”

A twig snaps under Steve’s shoe and he shakes his head. “No. Do you?”

“Nothin’ but a lot of trees.”

Steve rolls his shoulders and continues on, Hopper beside him, his bat over his shoulder. Hopper holds a flashlight in front of them as they survey the woods, trying to find any signs that something is amiss. The flashlight had failed a few times, unsettling Steve and Hopper both, chalking it up to bad batteries. It reminds Steve of the night at the Byers house in 1983, and it makes him shiver.

It’s relatively awkward, both men moving in silence, unsure of what to talk about.

Steve opens his mouth to say something - anything to kill the awkwardness - but Hopper grabs his shoulder, stopping him. “Do you hear that?”

Steve strains his ears, brows furrowed, and then he hears it - a low humming sound. It’s distant and he can hardly even hear it, but he can definitely feel it in his chest. He looks at Hopper, horrified, before they both set off in the direction of the noise.

The humming continues to grow as they make their way through the woods, stepping carefully as Steve grips his bat tightly. As they get closer, Steve can see a soft-glowing light at the base of a large hemlock. Steve grips his bat tighter and moves a bit closer to Hopper, who side-eyes him but continues on.

At the base of the hemlock tree is a small opening, covered in membrane and mucous and something almost resembling muscle sinew. A pinkish light shines through the membrane and Steve shudders, thinking it’s beautiful but gross and certainly bizarre. Beside him, Hopper stiffens, but lets his gun down slightly.

Steve looks over to him. “Is this…?”

“A portal,” Hopper finishes, reaching up and rubbing his hand over his chin. “It’s a portal.”

Steve feels a bit nauseous, but grips the bat tighter. “What - how did it-?”

“Something from the Upside Down must have opened it,” Hopper mumbles, looking around.

Steve remembers the flashlight’s flickering earlier, remembers the lights at the Byers, remembers the Demogorgon busting through the wall. His knees go weak and he looks to Hopper. “What if it’s a Demogorgon?”

Hopper sighs and looks to Steve. “Probably is.”

They hurry back to Mike’s room, where the rest of the Party and Suzie had been waiting. The silence between the two men became stiff and somber. Steve wishes he had something to say to calm Hopper - he can imagine it’s stressful for him to have Eleven somehow locate and close the Gate _again_. Steve doesn’t even know if El can close the Gate here, if this is even where it originated, if it’s the Gate or just a residual force. Maybe some Demogorgons remained, but if they can find and kill them, the portals would stop popping up.

Steve doesn’t even know if one _can_ kill a Demogorgon, but he assumes they’re going to try.

Hopper explains the situation to everyone in the room and they devise another plan - one not too complicated, Steve thinks, except there _is_ a high possibility of death. But that’s normal for them at this point.

“How?” Lucas asks, stunned that a portal could open all the way up here. “Do you think they travelled?”

“I don’t know,” Hopper says, irritated. “I don’t care about logistics right now. I care about saving those kids and closing them.”

Steve knows he cares about more than that, but doesn’t say anything.

“Steve and I are going to go in,” Hopper states. “We need to find those kids and try to figure out the source for the portals. I need radios -”

“Suzie’s got a _great_ ham radio,” Dustin says, and Suzie nods enthusiastically beside him. “If she could contact me from Utah, I think it can work.”

Steve wants to ask what the _hell_ a ham radio is but decides to stay quiet.

“We’ll see.” Hopper paces the room slightly. “We need some kind of protective gear, too. The air there is toxic.”

“Do the labs have hazmat suits?” Steve asks, and the kids shake their heads.

“They have goggles and gloves,” Max offers, and Hopper nods.

“We’ll need those.”

“Something for our nose and mouth -”

“Bandanas,” Steve offers. “Worked for us in the tunnels.”

“Fine,” Hopper sighs.

Steve can tell Hopper wishes he wasn’t working with children, and he winces a bit, adding, “We’ve done this kind of thing before. We know what to do.”

“I know,” Hopper says quietly. “I know.” Hopper contemplates for a long time before pointing at Dustin and Suzie. “Get the radio.” He turns to point at Max. “Get the gear.” Then he turns to look at Eleven. “Let’s talk.”

Everyone collectively leaves the room - Max and Lucas to get goggles, Mike and El to talk to Hopper, Dustin and Suzie to get the radio - which leaves Steve with Will.

Will looks terrified, and Steve doesn’t know what he could possibly say to make him feel any better.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says to him, lamely. “We’re going to figure it out.”

Will nods, looking like he wants to say something, but he stays silent. Steve clears his throat and leans against the wall, playing with his fingers, and he focuses on the sound of Hopper and El’s muffled voices on the other side of the door.

Steve bites his lip harshly, plays with his fingers a bit harder. He forces thoughts of you out of his mind, focusing instead on any other thing. Will’s bowlcut. Will’s wrinkled camper shirt. Hopper’s deep voice. A speckle of dirt under his fingernail. The taste of blood in his mouth.

But it proves pretty fruitless, and Steve feels guilt gripping him like a vice. The idea of actually dying tonight seems a bit absurd to him, though not impossible. But he can’t help to think about what would happen if he did die without being able to tell you that he was sorry. Without being able to explain himself. Steve finds himself creating a script in his head, something calm and to-the-point to explain the situation he was/is in.

He just hopes he can actually tell it to you.

===

You press your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you head into your cabin, pushing past the other counselors as your eyes stare at the laces on your shoes.

“Hey -” someone calls, but you enter your room and slam the door shut.

You sit on the edge of your bed and put your head in your hands, the heels of your palms digging into your eyes. You focus on your breathing - _in, out, in, out_ \- in an attempt to not cry. It’s pointless, though, and tears work their way past your hands and down your cheeks.

 _That’s it,_ you think, _I’m leaving._

You stand to grab your suitcase but fall back to the bed, crying harder.

_No I’m not._

You lay down and press your head into your pillow, reaching for the other one to tuck your arm around it. But it smells like Steve and makes you ache, so you throw it off the bed, curling up in on yourself.

You can’t seem to catch a break - constantly pulling yourself in two directions. You want to just leave and let someone else figure this shit out. The other counselors - and Steve, apparently - can handle it. But you have a duty to protect the kids and the camp. You love the campers so much that the prospect of actually getting in your car and leaving makes you feel nauseous.

But so does the thought of Steve.

You’d never felt so betrayed in your life. Things were just working out, just started to look up - and then he ripped you down again, just like he did years ago, and you don’t know how you’ll recover. Because you think you _love_ him, and that’s vastly confusing and complicated to you. You think you love him - not just like, as you had discovered before, but _love_ him. The absolute hurt in your chest only reinforces that. Steve has felt like home the past few weeks, and _home_ was ripped from you, leaving you empty and _lost_. And you feel so stupid for even thinking of the possibility that you love this boy, but it feels right. The word love is the closest to describing how you feel about him.

But you’re stuck, because the thought of him infuriates you _and_ makes you yearn. And you feel guilty for what you said, even if he did deserve it. Even if he _was_ an asshole. There was no way the person he’s shown you was fake, right? Why would he be so sweet to you for so long? Was this just an elaborate prank? You feel sick again and sit up, taking in some more deep breaths. You let your eyes flutter shut. Behind your eyelids, you can see that the light in your room flickers a few times, and you open them, confused. But the lights stabilize again, and you sigh, letting your eyes shut again. A sense of anxiety creeps in and though you can’t quite place where it’s coming from, you’re almost certain it’s caused by the thought of Steve.

You lay back down and hold yourself for a while, trying to calm your breathing and your nerves, but you soon sit back up.

 _Okay, I’m definitely leaving_.

You stand and reach under your bed for your suitcase and rip it out, throwing it onto the bed and lifting the lid. You step towards your wardrobe and rip it open, too, throwing your things haphazardly into your luggage. You reach for your pillows, ripping off the pillowcases and throwing them in. You grab the one you’d thrown on the floor and go to throw it in as well, but stop when you smell his cologne and shampoo on it again. You frown, eyes casting down at the soft cotton, remembering the night you shared together. How soft and tender it was, how peaceful you felt. You shut your eyes and ball the fabric up in your fists before dropping it on the bed.

“ _Christ_ ,” you mumble angrily, moving to put your shoes back on.

You were going to get the truth from him if it was the last thing you did.

===

Steve’s roommate, Nico, opens the door when you arrive.

You feel like you’re going to throw up.

“Steve here?” you force out before biting the inside of your cheek.

Nico blinks sleepily. “Nah, he’s doing rounds tonight.”

You know for a fact he isn’t doing rounds.

You blink a few times, shaking your head. “Nico, when was the last time you talked to him?”

“Around six. Why?”

He hadn’t been back in his room in hours.

You swallow hard and nod. “I’m just - looking. For him. Uh - I’m going to go find him. Thanks.”

Nico calls after you but you keep going, jogging towards Dustin’s cabin. You could only hope he was still here, because you’re starting to get a bad feeling in your gut - like something isn’t right, like he’s in danger.

===

Dustin and Suzie stay back with Will, Max, and Lucas to operate the radios. Steve, Hopper, Mike, and El head back towards the portal. Mike had _insisted_ on coming with, and Steve thought it was annoying and romantic at the same time. Steve’s really just thankful that Mike is silent, his hand in El’s in a death grip, his breathing a bit rugged.

They approach the portal again and El goes even more quiet, kneeling down in front of it.

“Upside Down,” she says quietly, and everyone nods.

“Do you - um,” Steve starts. “Do you have any idea - do you think it’s the Gate or the Demogorgons?”

“Demogorgons,” she says quietly. She looks up at him. “That’s why Will and I can’t feel it completely.” She looks back at the membrane in the tree. “Portals. No Gate.”

Steve sighs in relief. So the mission was easier - rescue the kids (or their bodies), kill the Demogorgons, get the hell out. Seemed simple. Steve’s been through worse.

Hopper ensures Mike and El have a radio to call for help and stay in contact, then tests that they can be heard from Mike’s room. Once confirming it works, Hopper takes a deep breath and turns to El. “I’ll be right back.”

“I know,” she says, giving him a reassuring smile.

Steve partly wishes someone cared that _he_ was going in, but then the thought makes his stomach churn, so he shuts his mind up.

“Don’t come in after us, okay? We need you out here.” Hopper had said it probably a thousand times, but El nods patiently, her brows twitching a bit with concern.

Steve and Hopper put their bandanas, goggles, and gloves on - Steve feels stupid, as if it _matters_ , and he shoves that down, too.

“Remember your names,” Mike says, and Steve makes sure he doesn’t roll his eyes.

“Okay.”

“Can you say them so I know you know them?”

Steve and Hopper sigh simultaneously.

“The Stache and The Hair,” Steve replies harshly.

“And what’s your team name?”

Steve and Hopper share a glance. “The _Wigs_.”

And if it wasn’t for Eleven’s soft smile at him, Steve would have probably launched towards Mike to shove him. Steve instead just returns El’s smile, hoping it’s a bit reassuring for her.

Hopper looks at him. “Ready?”

Steve shrugs and grips his bat tightly, gesturing for Hopper to go first. Hopper takes a deep breath before reaching out to the membrane, pushing it apart to enter.

===

It occurs to Steve that he’s never actually been _in_ the Upside Down before.

He’s hit immediately with a type of cold he’s never experienced before. He shivers uncomfortably. It’s wet and freezing, and his eyes hurt as they adjust to the darkness. Out of everything Steve’s experienced, he’s never been this terrified, and he’s only just stepped foot into the realm.

He hopes to God the kids are safe.

Steve grips the bat tighter and looks to Hopper. “Where do we start?”

“Look for clues and go from there,” he says.

Steve is not reassured by how tense Hopper seems.

But they continue in, moving slowly, sticking right beside Hopper. Hopper lifts the radio to his mouth and calls in to Dustin and Suzie, anxiously waiting for a reply.

“Transmission received!” Dustin says happily through the radio. Hopper quickly turns the volume down.

“Thank Christ,” Steve mutters, adjusting his bat.

“Any updates? Over,” Dustin says, and Hopper rolls his eyes.

“I’ll tell you if there are any updates, _over_ ,” he says, then silences it and puts it on his waistband.

Steve and Hopper continue on. Steve winces every time a leaf crunches under his Nike’s, and he wishes he had worn an extra layer or five. The only protective clothing he has on is his _Member’s Only_ jacket, which has ironically seen as much hell as Steve has.

Hopper stops and bends down a few minutes in, examining the ground before looking back to Steve. “Shoe prints.”

Steve kneels too, squinting to see what Hopper sees. There were shoe prints - at least two different sets. The size was small, indicating children had left them. Steve’s heart lurches up into his throat. “They’re here.”

“They’re here,” Hopper repeats sadly. “They’re here.”

Steve knew logically that that would be the case, but it still made him panic. He feels sick again - the thought of any children in this place makes him sadder than he thought was possible.

“We can follow them,” Hopper says. “Least we have that.”

So they push on, further into the darkness, ears strained for any company.

===

Mike’s room is silent as everyone anxiously waits for updates.

The radio crackles and everyone perks up. “This is -” Steve sighs, exasperated, “ _The Wigs_ , I have an update.”

“Say over, over,” Mike chimes in.

There’s a long pause before Steve comes back in. “Shut up, dipshit. I have an update, _over_.”

“What’s your twenty?” Dustin asks.

“We found some footprints,” Steve says. “Or - well, shoe prints -”

The sound of Hopper sighing can be heard over the radio.

“Following them now. No signs of any Demogorgons. Mike and El -”

“ _Paladin_ and _Mage!_ Over!” Mike hisses, and the homicidal vibes coming from the Wigs can be felt through the dimensions.

“Jesus,” Steve groans. “Just stay alert, okay? They may be on your side. We’re go-”

A loud, ear-splitting roar interrupts Steve, and Will tenses up, eyes wide.

Everyone knows before he even says it.

“Demogorgon.”

“Hair? Hair, what’s your twenty?” Dustin practically shouts into the phone, unable to stay calm. “Steve? Steve, do you copy?”

The radio is silent.

The room is silent.

“They aren’t here,” Mike says, horrified, leaving out the _over_. “We don’t see them.”

The room is tense and terrified, unsure of what to do.

“Try them again,” Max says. “Maybe - maybe they just needed some time.”

“Steve? Do you copy?” Dustin asks, hands shaking. “God dammit, Steve, _do you copy?!_ ”

A knock at the door makes everyone’s heads swivel around, giving them whiplash. Lucas, closest to the door, stands cautiously to open it.

===

You weren’t expecting the thick tension in the room when the door opens. Lucas Sinclair stands on the other side of the threshold, looking panicked before looking relieved. He pulls you inside and shuts the door.

“Wh -” you begin, but Suzie reaches for you, grabbing your shoulders.

“We need your help,” she says, and the others nod furiously.

“What? With what? Where’s Steve and the cop?”

And Dustin spills everything. Well, everything he can.

“A few years ago there was this realm that Eleven - or, Jane - opened, and it created a Gate between this world and the Upside Down. There are these monsters there called Demogorgons and they open up these portals to travel between the worlds, and - and - and they took those two campers, and Steve and Hopper went into them, and now we can’t reach them. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to _god damn_ do. We need your help.”

You stare at him for a long few seconds before whispering, “ _What?”_

“No time to explain,” Lucas says.

“What?” you repeat. “Where - _what?!”_

“We need you to go in and find them,” Max says. “Please, Y/N - they could be dead -”

Your stomach drops and your knees nearly give out. You don’t know if this is bullshit or not, but the thought of Steve being dead makes your heart leap.

“So Steve and the cop are stuck currently in an interdimensional realm named after things from Dungeons and Dragons, and they might be dead?”

“Yes,” everyone says in unison.

“Is this a fucking joke?” you ask.

“I really, really wish it was,” Lucas says.

“We would go in, but -” Dustin starts, and Suzie finishes his sentence.

“We need an adult.”

You stare at them again, your eyes drifting over to Will, who looks like he’s having a panic attack. You step towards him, shaking your head slightly. “Will -”

“ _Please_ ,” is all he says.

You look back at everyone else, confused, but starting to understand a bit. “Why don’t you just call the police?”

Everyone stares back like you’re stupid, and you understand.

“Shit,” you breathe. “Shit. Shit. Where are they?”

“Mike and El can direct you, they have a radio too,” Dustin says quickly. He grabs the extra radio and throws it to you - you’re surprised you caught it.

“Mike and El? Are they in the portal too?”

“Just outside of it,” Max says quickly. “We have to get you goggles and something for your face -”

“And a weapon,” Lucas adds. “You can’t go in there without one.”

“So what do you want me to do?!” you ask. “What if they are dead?” The room spins at the thought and tears prick your eyes. “Do you want me to - to bring their dead bodies back or something?”

Will reaches for you, grabbing your wrist gently. Tearfully, he whispers, “Just get them out of there. Please.”

You realize now that you have to hurry - they must not have much time.

“Shit,” you say again. “Oh, shit -”

“You can’t panic now!” Dustin nearly shouts. “We have to get them out of there.”

“Guys?”

Mike Wheeler’s voice crackles through the radio.

“We still can’t see them - El’s about to go in -”

“ _No_ ,” you say, a sudden clarity hitting you. “ _I’m_ going in.”

The process to get ready was relatively simple - goggles stolen from the lab room, a bandana borrowed from Lucas, and a rusty axe that was used to cut firewood as your weapon. It’s bizarrely heavy in your hand - definitely not your first choice, but it’ll do, according to the kids.

“The air in there is toxic,” Lucas explains. “It almost killed Will.”

“ _Will_ was in there?”

“1983,” he says, almost nonchalantly. “We’ll fill you in when you get back.”

 _If I get back_ , you think, gripping the axe tighter.

If it was anyone else, you probably wouldn’t be going in. But it was Steve,

new information made everything make sense. This is the trauma he has been referring to. This is the stuff he can’t talk to you about. And, actually, you’re glad that he didn’t tell you this out of nowhere, because it’s a bit much to swallow.

Determination grips your tightly, swelling in your chest.

You’re going to save him.


	9. the savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, Steve, and Hopper explore the Upside Down in search for the missing campers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! this chapter contains violence and a very minor character death. please be advised <3 sorry for the long hiatus, but I hope you enjoy!

The walkie drops from Steve’s hand and he straightens immediately, pressing his back up against Hopper’s. He holds the bat in both hands now as he scans the area.

It’s always weird, Steve thinks, how much of an impact adrenaline has on his body. He can’t hear anything except his own heartbeat and the rapid breaking of twigs somewhere in front of him. It’s almost an out of body experience - he’s numb to everything except the horror and anticipation. His knuckles turn white against the dark wood of the bat as his eyes flicker around in the near pitch blackness of the dimension.

“ _Steve, do you copy?_ ”

And Steve does what seems right - he stomps on the walkie until it stops. The moment the sound goes out, the Demogorgon appears, and Steve’s tense muscles falter before stiffening again.

Hopper turns on his heel to stand beside Steve and cocks his rifle before shooting, directly into the opened flora of its head. Steve plants his feet and raises the bat as the _thing_ gets closer. He almost feels like he’s right back at Jonathan’s house, with Jon on one side and Nance on the other. He kind of wishes that was the case, but Hopper would do.

Steve swings the bat as hard as he can once the monster is close enough and the nails slice into the thick skin of the Demogorgon. Both Hopper and Steve groan at the sound of its high-pitched shriek, and Steve _rips_ the bat backwards before hitting it again, right where it’s ribs would be. Hopper fires more shots at it, but Steve knows it takes more than a few bullets to kill one of these things. If it can even _be_ killed.

The Demogorgon’s mouth opens again to cry out and it slashes towards Hopper first, narrowly missing him. Steve arches forward to miss it’s claws before slamming the bat into its neck. When it cries out again, Steve aims towards it’s opened mouth and swings with all of his strength. Hopper takes a shot right after, and that seems to do the trick - the Demogorgon shrivels up on the cold ground. Hopper and Steve assault it a few more times before it finally goes limp, leaving the scene in deafening silence, save for the men’s ragged breathing.

Steve let’s the bat fall to his side, his grip on it easing. Hopper steps forward to look over Steve’s shoulder at the corpse before clapping Steve on the shoulder, sighing. The corner of Steve’s lips quirk up at the validation before he frowns when his eyes land on the obliterated walkie talkie.

It reminds Steve of Jonathan’s camera.

“Shit,” Hopper breathes, kneeling down to pick at the pieces.

Steve feigns innocence and points at the dead Demogorgon. “Must have stepped on it.”

Hopper stands. “We _need_ a walkie.”

Steve looks at him like he’s crazy. “But we - we’re all the way in here -“

“I’ll go forward to look for the kids. You can go back to get a new one, since _you_ broke this one.”

Steve’s mouth opens and shuts. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to split up.”

“We’ll get more done if we do.”

Steve stares before rolling his shoulders, throwing the bat back over them. “ _Fine_. But we need to know where to meet.”

Hopper simply points at the shoe prints in the ground. “Follow these when you get back. I won’t move from them.”

Steve feels like he’s going to throw up at the thought of being alone here, but he knows that they really _do_ need a walkie. So he sighs and nods curtly before taking off, back in the direction they came from.

“Hey, Steve?”

He turns. “Yeah?”

Hopper frowns. “Be careful.”

“No shit,” Steve mumbles, kicking at dead leaves as he continues.

===

You have no idea how literal children are handling this situation better than you, but they are.

El never really struck you as the superpower type, but you watch as she helps the portal open just slightly for you. Mike is completely unfazed, of course, like he’s watched this happen one hundred times. You stare at both of them with your jaw slightly agape before nodding. “Thank you.”

“You need a nickname,” Mike says. “For the transmissions.”

“ _Who_ is going to intercept this transmission, Mike?”

“Just -” He sighs loudly. “What should we call you?”

“I don’t give a shit,” you mutter, climbing onto your knees and looking into the portal with uncertainty.

Mike makes a noise of annoyance. “We’ll call you Athena.”

You genuinely couldn’t care less, but anxiety pools in your gut as you continue to stare. El takes a small step forward. “Axe first.”

You throw it through to the other side and look up at her and Mike as you touch your waistband for the walkie-talkie you had. Your bandana is secure around your face and the goggles from the science room fog up slightly with each breath you take. If this was a prank, it was a very elaborate and good one.

“I’ll call you,” you say.

“Good luck.”

No one says _it’ll be fine,_ or _it’s really not that bad once you get in,_ or _haha this is a big prank and we totally got your ass!._ It’s just a somber _good luck,_ with El wringing her hands and Mike clenching his fist.

Still, you continue. You have to find Steve.

===

Steve really does not like being alone in here. He doesn’t like being alone anywhere, but certainly not in the Upside Down. Any noise that he thinks might not be his makes his blood pressure skyrocket. His bat is constantly out in front of him, ready to strike at any second. His knuckles twist the bat tightly, making his fingers go numb.

About thirty minutes pass since he’s left Hopper, and he cannot seem to locate the portal he entered through.

Steve’s starting to get _really_ scared now. He pauses his movements to think hard, eyes taking in the continuous scene of navy and black. Nothing looks familiar, but that’s probably because everything is cloaked in toxic particles and some kind of mucus that makes Steve shutter.

“You’re okay,” he mumbles out loud, taking a small step forward. “Jesus, you’re _okay_.”

Another small step. Then another.

A clicking sound emerges behind Steve and his blood runs cold. He can suddenly feel a presence behind him, and it sure as shit is _not_ human. The clicking mixes in with a high pitched chittering and Steve’s knees nearly give out, but he turns and swings with the last of his strength.

He thankfully hits the Demogorgon, but the bat gets stuck in its thick skin. Steve pulls back, and pulls back, and pulls back, and he swears the moment before it swipes him it _laughs_ at him.

He hits the ground with an audible thud and groans before rolling, narrowly avoiding its claws again. The bat is _still_ stuck, sticking out of the Demogorgon’s neck. For the first time, Steve curses his weapon for being useless

He jumps to his feet but is thrown down again. The claws reach him this time, swiping through his jacket and shirt and piercing the skin of his ribs. And Steve _screams_. He can usually grit his teeth and bare it, but the feeling hurts more than any punch he’d ever encountered. He feels bile rising in his throat and he pushes up, trying to scramble backwards. The fresh blood only motivates the monster, who comes for Steve slowly, chittering and clicking sickeningly.

Somewhere off in the distance, you hear Steve’s scream, and your heart drops to your soles. You take off, sprinting after him, too scared to shout for him. As you get closer to the sound you can hear something else, an unsettling clicking noise, and goosebumps rise on your skin. You still run, though, zeroed in on finding and saving him.

Steve’s pretty pissed. He’s been through a hell of a lot, and _this_ was how he was going to go out. He’s a seasoned survivor and he’s about to die at the hands of the first monster that he ever defeated. And he’s pissed because he’s never going to be able to save those kids, or save the Party, or tell you that _maybe_ he kind of sort of loves you.

Still, he braces himself, figuring that it can’t hurt any more than the pain in his ribs. He squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to think about sitting on that large rock with you at the swimming hole, feeling your soft and warm skin on him again.

Instead of hearing his own screams, though, he hears the Demogorgon let out one, a shrill and painful shriek. Steve opens his eyes curiously and his mouth drops.

You slice through the Demogorgon’s back, exposing a black interior. You pull back with a shout and slam the axe back into it, this time aiming right by the bat stuck in its neck, and it cries out again. It tries to twist back but in a complete moment of fury at the sight of a wounded Steve, you slice it’s head clean off.

The body slumps, but the head rolls, still shrieking. You march towards it and slam the axe into it over and over until it completely stops.

Steve’s never been more in love in his life.

You pant down at the head before looking back to Steve.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Steve.”

You pause for a moment longer before running for him, dropping your axe and kneeling beside him. He winces and hisses, moving his hand to his rib cage. You push it out of the way and examine him, moving back the blood soaked layers to assess the damage. It’s not as bad as you’d thought, but he’s losing a good bit of blood. You help peel his jacket off before tying the arms tightly around the wound, making him cry out.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, tears forming in your eyes. “God, Steve, I’m sorry - so sorry for everything.”

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching for you, resting a blood soaked hand on your cheek before removing it. “Ah, shit -“

You grab his hand and lace your fingers through his. “Steve. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up - I should have trusted you -“

“‘s okay,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry, too. Should’ve just told you.”

“I get why you didn’t,” you laugh sadly, running a hand over his cheek. Your eyes well with more tears as you’re hit with the overwhelming sadness of his situation. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s still a kid. And he’s had to live with this for years.

“Don’t cry,” he says, furrowing his brows. “‘m okay.”

You shake your head and bring it to rest against his, forehead against forehead, eyelashes fluttering together. “I’m just so sorry.”

“Think you made it up to me,” he smiles - or maybe it’s a grimace. “Now I’ve got to make it up to you.”

You push him back down when he attempts to stand, but he shakes his head, brows furrowed in concentration. “Gotta get up.”

“You’re hurt,” you say, and he sets his jaw.

“Have to help,” he pants. “Need to save the kids.”

You’d almost forgotten about them in the excitement. Your shoulders slump at the reminder and you have some serious doubts that they could have possibly lived through a hell like this.

Still, you help Steve up. He moves slowly, planting his feet and taking a few shaky breaths once he’s up. He walks towards the corpse of the monster with his back hunched and rips the bat from it’s flesh, wincing a bit as he does. He shakes it to get some excess flesh off before swinging it over his shoulder gingerly.

 _He looks very good like this,_ you think.

“Why are you here?” he asks suddenly. “How did you -“

“The kids told me,” you explain, grabbing your axe. “They told me your walkie had gone out and they needed help.”

Steve’s mad for a second before realizing he would have done the same if he was a kid with no other adult to go to.

“Demogorgon broke ours,” he explains. “Well, actually, _I_ broke it -“

“A what?”

“Demogorgon,” he says, nodding towards the body on the ground. “Monster.”

“Like from _Dungeons and Dragons_?”

“The kids had a theme when naming everything,” he says. “C’mon, we have to go find Hopper.”

“Is he okay?” you ask, following after Steve, who stumbles and moves a lot slower than he had before.

“Who knows,” he mumbles. “Hope so.”

He stops walking for a moment to reach for you, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers through yours. He gives a firm squeeze and looks to you with a sad smile, but you squeeze back in reassurance.

It’s all that needs said.

“Athena to… whatever the hell - I got Steve.”

A cacophony of noises erupt softly from the walkie until Dustin says, “Is he okay?!”

“Doing great,” you lie, trying to not scare them. “We are going to find Hop-”

“Stache,” Steve corrects, only because Mike has yelled at him enough to make him remember.

You stare at Steve in annoyance but Mike also cuts in with, “He’s called Stache.”

“I do not care what the names are. We are going to find him and then we will look for the kids. Okay?”

“Over,” Steve says, and Mike says, “Over,” and you almost have a mental breakdown between the technicalities and the anxiety.

“ _Over_ ,” you hiss, and turn the walkie off.

You and Steve follow the footprints that he had pointed out to you, hands clenching your weapons tightly. Steve realizes that he’s probably leading a trail _straight_ to the two of you with the blood dripping from his ribs, but he knows he can’t back out of this. He _won’t_ back out of this. He needs to save the kids and put a stop to this.

Eventually, you find Hopper, who’s a bit rugged but otherwise okay. Hopper stares at you for a moment, confused with why you’re here, but Steve simply points to the walkie. Hopper nods and steps towards Steve, suddenly noticing his wound. He examines Steve with worry laced in his brows, touching the fabric over the wound gingerly. “Got you pretty good, huh?”

“Hurts,” Steve mumbles, his fingers still tight around the bat.

Hopper looks to him with a newer expression, one laced more in fear than worry. “It likes blood.”

“I know,” Steve says, shifting. “We - we’ll be alright.”

Hopper is not so convinced, and neither are you, but there really isn’t much of a choice here.

“Have you found anything?” you ask quietly.

Hopper shakes his head, but points off into the distance. “But I bet we’re close.”

In the distance, you can see the buildings of the Camp. Well, this version of the buildings - dilapidated and overgrown.

“You think they’re there?” you ask.

Hopper nods, continuing to look at the buildings. “Will was….”

Your heart drops, remembering the story that the kids had told you. Steve looks sick as well, but everyone moves forward, weapons at the ready once more.

You come upon the main buildings - the cafeteria and the classrooms. The cabins are off in the distance, but Hopper is sure that if the kids were anywhere, they’d be here. He remembers where he found Will and Barb, in a sort of nest at the heart of the city. He reckons if the Demogorgons were going to have a nest, it’d be in one of these buildings.

Your heart leaps to your throat as you approach the buildings, and you stick as close to Steve as you can. He moves slowly, hunched over, but adrenaline keeps him moving. You look at him with concern, but Steve looks straight ahead, trying to act unfazed.

Hopper enters the school building first, raising his rifle and flashlight as he breaches the entrance. Steve ushers you in, looking around the outside before falling in behind you. Hopper looks around at the numerous hallways, before turning to you and Steve. “Somebody want to lead the way?”

Steve looks at you expectantly, and you narrow your eyes. “Come on, we’ve been here for _weeks_. Do you really not know the layout of this building?”

Steve shrugs innocently in reply and you sigh loudly, pushing past him and Hopper to lead the way. Your knees shake with each step you take, but you force yourself to stay upright. Steve moves in front of Hopper to be close to you. It’s not that he didn’t think Hopper could save you; he just wanted to be the one to do it.

The first few rooms are clear, although some are a bit more decayed than others. You have the fleeting thought that you wished you had brought something to take samples with - but who would ever believe this, anyway? The three of you pushed on, looking into each room slowly, straining to hear any signs of danger.

When you get to a new hallway, everyone splits up, checking the rooms separately to cover ground quicker.

You find the first missing camper.

The room is decayed beyond repair. Vines tangle over the concrete floor, and the same slime-like membrane covers the room and it’s inhabitants. It looks almost like a nest - cocoons on the walls, membranes with web-like appearances attached. But there were undoubtedly bodies in the room, and you stepped one foot over the threshold cautiously. You couldn’t breathe - refused to - as you took another step into the room. Your shoes stuck to the membrane on the ground and it took a bit of effort to keep moving. It felt almost unreal - the atmosphere, the scene before you. Like you were in another world completely - which, you _were_ \- but it felt like a nightmare.

Brent Albright was twelve and skinny. He disappeared first. You recognize his body immediately.

Shaking, you knelt down. “Brent?”

There was no response - no stirring, no signs of life. You reach for him and shake his arm, your own shaking violently. “ _Brent!_ ”

It took every effort in you to not throw up.

“C’mon,” you whisper hoarsely. “C’mon, Brent.” You grab his wrist and feel for a pulse, but find nothing except ice-cold skin and veins.

You try to scream, but nothing comes out. Soon, Hopper and Steve notice your absence, and they find you kneeling on the ground, shaking your head as you stare at his body.

Steve’s knees buckle but he pushes himself forward, following Hopper to kneel beside you.

“Gone,” you whisper.

Hopper reaches to feel the boy’s pulsepoint in his throat, but he knows once he feels his skin that he’s not there. His head droops and he sits his rifle down, cursing under his breath.

Steve shakes so hard that it feels like his organs are vibrating. He stands, takes a sharp breath in, and then strides to another room to vomit.

The scene hurt everyone, but it hurt Steve so much that he felt like he was drowning. He could always save them - he could always be the hero. He thought he’d be able to find the two campers and bring them home, safe and unharmed. But he failed them. He couldn’t bring them home. He couldn’t keep them safe, couldn’t get to them fast enough. And if he couldn’t do that, what could he do?

Steve remembers what Nancy told him about Barb. That El had found her in the Upside Down. Dead. He can’t help but to look around the room and realize that this is where Barb was when she died. Alone and lost and scared, just like Brent. And no one could save her, either, after she was ripped here right in his own backyard.

Will was here, too. Will had to deal with this. Will was probably in the same position - apparently nearly dead when he was found.

Steve digs his nails into his chest, trying to use the pain to ground himself. His head spins and he collapses to the ground, putting his head in his hands, wincing at the pain in his ribs. _It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault._

It feels like he deserves to be next.

In the other room, you and Hopper examine the walls for any other signs of life, but find nothing that’s remotely distinguishable. Everything was flesh and bone.

Hopper rests his hand on your shoulder and sighs heavily. “There’s still a kid out there. We have to find them.”

You nod weakly. “Steve.”

“Go see if you can calm him down,” he says.

You nod and move to where Steve is, the room across from this one. He shakes alone as he curls up in on himself, and you rush for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“It’s all my fault,” he whispers brokenly.

“How?” you ask.

“I couldn’t… I shouldn’t have waited.” He shakes his head and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Jesus, I should have looked for them sooner.”

“How would you have found them here?”

“I don’t know!” he snaps. “But they’re gone, and I couldn’t - I couldn’t do anything.”

Steve understands so deeply how Nancy felt in 1984. And he had brushed her off, terrified that they’d get hurt if they talked about it. He understands how helpless she must have felt, and it makes him feel like there’s a boulder in his stomach, cold and rough.

You wince when you hear him start to cry, and you press him deeply into your side. You feel sick and upset too, but you know you need to be strong for him.

“Steve,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

It makes him cry harder. He doesn’t know if he wants the pity or not, but nonetheless, he feels small and scared and he just wants to go home.

“There’s another kid,” you say gently. “And he needs our help, too. We have to keep going.”

Steve nods and swallows hard. He takes another deep breath - which really isn’t that deep - and sniffles, then stands, grabbing his bat and moving from the room. You follow him, frowning, tears brimming your eyes, too. But you push them back and grab your axe, setting off to find the other.

===

Fred Perkins is found just a couple of doors away. This time around, the kid is breathing.

Hopper finds his pulse, which is faint and slow, but there. He must have been recently dragged in, as he was relatively unharmed, but seemed to have hypothermia or something similar. His lips were blue and his face was paler than anything you’d ever seen - you were surprised he wasn’t a corpse. But you checked his pulse as well, and it _was_ there.

“Fred,” you say, pushing his hair out of his face. “C’mon, buddy. Can you hear me?”

He doesn’t even stir.

“We need to get him back quickly,” Steve says. “I don’t know how much longer he can be here.”

Hopper nods, but you pause. “Isn’t the nearest portal the one that’s almost half an hour away by foot?”

“Do you want to leave him here?”

“No,” you snap. “But it’s not going to be easy, and your ribs are already messed up -”

“We can do it,” Steve says. “We have to do it.”

Your eyes linger on him for a moment before you look back down at Fred. You wish you’d brought a blanket or an extra jacket for him, but there’s nothing you can use. “Hop and I can carry him. Steve, just keep an eye open for us, okay?”

Steve stiffens, irritated, wanting to help. “But -”

“Steve.” Your voice is quiet and sincere, and he drops it.

“What about Brent?” he asks. “We can’t leave him here.”

Hopper sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “We don’t have much of a choice.”

Steve nearly becomes belligerent at this. “Leave him here? You want us to just leave him here? All alone?”

“Steve, it’s too dangerous. We _can’t_.”

“We can come back for him later,” you say, although it’s a lie. Eleven needs to close the portals - there’s no coming back. “We need to worry about Fred right now. Okay?”

Steve takes a slow, deep breath and nods, gripping his bat tighter. “Okay. Okay. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Hopper really doesn’t have much of an issue carrying the child, since he’s small and skinny and had very obviously lost some weight. As he carries Fred, you call the kids back at camp.

“This is Athena, can you hear me?”

“This is Paladin, what’s your twenty?”

“We found Fred,” you say. You think it’s probably best to leave out Brent’s fate. “We’re coming back to the portal to get him out of there. It’ll take us a bit, but stay on the lookout. Have you seen anything on your side?”

“No,” Mike answers. “But El keeps having to reopen the portal. It keeps wanting to close.”

You share a glance with Steve and Hopper. “O-okay. We’ll move as fast as we can. Over.”

You clip the walkie back onto your waistband and follow closely beside Hopper, your axe over one shoulder. You pay more attention to Fred than to the woods around you, but Steve is luckily very aware of everything. Every crunch makes you all halt, looking around like prey before continuing once no threat is made obvious. The walk feels like an eternity, and there are times where Hopper needs to rest and adjust; he still refuses any help, which irritates you, but only for a moment. You’re not sure if you could really help much.

Your worry drifts to Steve, who hasn’t said much of anything and whose jaw is perpetually clamped tightly shut. You quicken your pace to walk with him, and you run your hand down his arm in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m sorry.”

Steve licks his lips, sniffles, and shakes his head just slightly.

“How are your ribs?”

“Medium rare.”

You smile slightly and bump into him. “We’re almost back. We’ll get you help.”

Steve nods, but he’s distracted. Though he can’t see anything, he feels some imminent danger that he can’t shake. The woods are dark and too quiet, and the fine hair on his neck stands on end. His hands wring around the bat as he looks around and scans the trees for any signs of danger. It’s so important to him in this moment that he protects you and Hopper and Fred. After letting down Brent, he cannot - will not - let anyone else get hurt. He’ll die to protect you if he has to.

After what feels like a hundred years, you arrive back at the portal you’d gone through. A massive wave of relief runs through you as you approach and you can’t help but to almost skip as you get closer to the portal. You call through to El and Mike who answer immediately, their own relief evident in their voices.

Steve protects you and Hopper as you kneel on the ground. “We’re sending Fred through first,” you say, helping Hopper lay him down gently. “We need to get him back to camp as soon as possible, he’s in really bad shape.”

You help Hopper feed Fred through to where Mike and El are able to grab him and bring him to the other side. You can’t help but to smile widely - you did it. You made it. Steve’s alive, Hopper’s alive, and one kid is alive. You did it.

Something snaps nearby.

Immediately on alert, Hopper jumps up and grabs his gun off the holster. You grab your axe and stand by him, behind Steve, who announces, “Company.”

You hear something wet behind you and whip around - the portal is closing. _The portal is closing._

“El,” you call. “The portal -”

It closes.

“Guys.”

“What?” Hopper snaps, eyes trained on the darkness expanding in front of you.

“The portal closed.”

Both men’s shoulders - and weapons - drop as they spin to confirm your observation.

“What the -” Steve starts, but a similar, eerie clicking noise fills the air.

“Demogorgon.”

It clicks in Steve’s head within a split second - they’d been following the four of you this entire time. They planned this. An ambush. They closed the portal to corner you. _Steve’s blood left the trail._

 _Clever shits,_ Steve thinks, before his bat swings at a Demogorgon that had sprung towards him.

You shout for him, but one emerges to your left. You slice through its arm with your axe, cringing as it lets out a piercing scream. You hear Hopper unloading his gun beside you, but you keep going, slicing at the monster before it eventually crumples and falls to the floor. You jump when something grabs your arm, but it’s only Steve, who quickly pulls you to run from the tree. You hear more snarling behind you and you feel like you can’t breathe with the bandana and goggles fogging up. Steve keeps pulling you though, and Hopper runs beside you, occasionally pausing to shoot back behind him.

What Hopper and Steve know, and what you don’t know, is that bullets don’t do shit to these things. The only time Steve ever saw one of them disappear was when he had set one on fire with Nancy and Jonathan - and even then, he couldn’t be certain that it actually died. It seemed that slicing through them was good enough, but maybe it wasn’t - maybe they could form themselves again. Either way, your chances weren’t looking good, and Steve’s heart plummets when he realizes what he has to do.

Steve suddenly stops running and Hopper goes to help him move along, but he shakes his head and nearly shoves him away.

“What is it?” you ask quickly. “Are - are you hurting? Can you not -”

“Go,” he says, turning around, and walking back the way you came.

You lunge for him, grabbing onto his arm, pulling him towards you. “No. _No._ This isn’t time to be hero, Steve -”

“They’re right,” Hopper says, taking a step towards Steve. “C’mon, we need to -”

A piercing wail pierces the air. They were getting closer.

“It’s my fault,” Steve says quickly. “It’s my fault. My blood -”

“I don’t care if it’s your fault, Steve -”

“ _Please_.” His voice cracks. “Please. Go.”

“ _Not without you!_ ”

“Kid, come on -”

Steve shakes his head and cups your cheek with his hand. “Right behind you. I’m right behind you. _Go_.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, reaching up to your throat. You feel like you’re suffocating. “Steve, please, not again, can’t lose you -”

But he leaves, marching towards the darkness, bat raised and shoulders back. Hopper tries to grab him, but Steve moves with such purpose that the universe itself could not call him back.

Hopper forces you to run, grabbing your arm and pulling you along. You wait to hear any noises of Steve’s certain death, but it’s eerily quiet. Only your breaths and footsteps make any noise.

You soon after land on the camp’s main buildings once more. Your mind races as you try to think of places to hide, but Hopper can see something bright and luminescent at the bottom of the lake. He stops to squint, and realizes that it’s a portal. An odd place for a portal, but a portal nonetheless. It’s your only option.

You’re confused as Hopper pulls you towards the pier, but you quickly understand as your eyes land on the open mass at the bottom. You almost stop running. “No way!”

“Hope you can swim,” Hopper says, and although you can, you’re not so sure you can survive that long - not when your heart hurts from beating, with your lungs on fire, with the absence of Steve cutting through your gut like blades. Not without him.

“But Steve -”

Hopper grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him. “We have to. We can’t wait. He’ll be right behind us, he’s more than capable, but we need to go _now_.”

Your eyes dart back to the woods, then to Hopper. “Right behind me?”

“Promise,” he says. “I’m right behind you.”

You nod, legs and arms shaking. Your eyes move towards the woods one more time, hoping Steve would emerge, but there’s nothing except silence. You take a deep breath and step towards the edge of the pier, then another, then another. Your lungs contract and expand; your legs feel weak and on fire; and you feel your chest expand one more time before plunging into the water.


End file.
